
















































































































































































































































































4 


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^AND THE WISElk, 

PRESENTING IN ATTRACTIVE FORMS 




SOME OF THE MOST NOTABLE THINGS 

IN POETIC LITERATURE, 

IN SCIENCE AND IN ART, 

IN HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY, 

IN EARTH, SEA AND SKY 

IN PHILOSOPHY AND MUSIC. 

AFFORDING MUCH INFORMATION NOT OFTEN OR EASILY OBTAINABLE, WORDS OF PROFOUND 
SYMPATHY FOR SOME, PURE AND WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT FOR 
OTHERS, AND PROFIT fTT ^BUNDANCE FOR ALL. 

By L. N.THA-PIN. 

REVISED EDITION. 


WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
By THOMAS CHASE, M. A., LL.D. (Harvard), 

President of Haverford College; Member of Committee on Revision of New Testament; also 
American Philosophical and American Oriental Societies ; Senior Editor of “ Chase and 

Stuart’s Latin Text Books ;” Author of Latin Grammar, etc., etc. 

01- ' 

- - —• f-~ -j C' < r~ 

... .1 l O - 1 1 - ~ 


of 


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PHILADELPHIA, PA.: > 0 /f C , c 

JOHN C. WINSTON & CO., 

1009 Arch Street. 

1 8 8 5 . 


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HE purpose and plan of this book,— and 
every book ought to have the loftiest purpose 
and the clearest plan,—are in no respect to 
give the reader knowledge simply of one or 
many kinds. There is a great deal of infor- 
mation of a purely scientific character in it; 
and yet it is not a scientific work; there is a 
great deal of history in it, and a great deal of 
biography; and yet the author would be disap¬ 
pointed if it should ever be spoken of as a book 
of history or biography. There are other eyes 
through which to see things. To the most of us, the sciences 
as a study fail to possess the interest they should. And yet, all 
incidents which reveal in animals the qualities of special intelli¬ 
gence, affection, courage, fidelity,—all such things possess a pro¬ 
found interest. It is said of that ungainly creature, the kanga¬ 
roo, that, when hotly pursued, she will turn and hold up her 
little one, to move the compassion of the hunter. Now, we are 
not at all interested in the science that treats of animals, ab¬ 
stractly, but facts like this are never skipped in our reading, and 
never forgotten afterward. So, also, we are not interested in the 
science of chemistry; but when it comes to the production of 
real diamonds by chemical process,—well, the account of it is 
vastly interesting reading, to say the least. Few of us, also, are 




.o- 




























PREFACE. 


properly interested in the stud)' of history. Its endless proces¬ 
sions of names and dates are bewildering 1 to the average mem¬ 
ory, and desperate is the effort to retain even the most important 
of them. But when we read of that devout hero-worshiper, 
Kleber, who, after the battle of Aboukir, flinging himself upon 
the neck of Napoleon, exclaimed, w Oh, Napoleon! you are 
great as the universe!” in that much of history we are sensi¬ 
ble of a deeply sympathetic interest. It is manifest, then, that 
if science be tasteless, and history a burden, yet each of them 
may contribute incidents and facts, not only interesting, but 
often of fascinating interest. We do not care for the roast beef, 
but we will take a little of the dressing. Single incidents of 
brave soldier boys dying on far away battle-fields, and in hospi¬ 
tals, is all that half the joeople remember of a great war. 

There is another class of facts, also, in which we are even 
more deeply interested. When Christine Nilsson sings the 
“Jewel Song” from Faust, people clap their hands and exclaim 
“Splendid singer! What a remarkable voice!” and all that. 
When, in response to the applause, she comes out and sings 
“The Old Folks at Home,” suddenly there is a great demand 
for ’kerchiefs, and a vast audience becomes conscious of an 
omnipresent heart-hunger which no amount of fine opera can 
ever satisfy. We enter the court where Thackeray, like an 
Eastern prince whose garments shower jewels at every step, 
appears with all his brilliant train; and we wonder and admire. 
It is a feast of the imagination. But Dickens’ story of little 
Nell, and Paul Dombey, and the Marchioness, can never be read 
with dry eyes. 

Whatever is heroic, whatever is pathetic, whatever is truly 
eloquent, whatever, through any avenue, reaches that nature 
which lies deep and far below the worn and callous, and some¬ 
times, almost impenetrable mask which most men wear_all 

such things are eagerly read, and forever remembered. 

Now all this explains in some measure the kind of a scien¬ 
tific work, the kind of a history, and the kind of a biography, 














PREFACE. Z 


that this book aims to be. There are whole ranges of import¬ 
ant subjects that people as a class, are not interested in; but 
there are facts and incidents, and things about things, that people 
are interested in, and forevermore will be. Such, this book 
aims to give. There is a frozen, abstract, scientific way of look¬ 
ing at the ocean, or the land, or the people; and there is a way 
a poet has of looking at those same things that is entirely differ¬ 
ent. It is rather through his eyes that the author, in this book, 
would have his readers look at men and things. 



It would have been a comparatively easy task to have 
roamed about the universe, and nicely inventoried all the won¬ 
derful things seen and heard. But that would not have been a 
specially noteworthy labor. It has rather been the author’s pur¬ 
pose that at some point every notable thing—everything won¬ 
derful, or beautiful, should touch human life. 

It may seem selfish to mention the amount of labor that has 
been necessary in the accumulation of so much of what is be¬ 
lieved to be deeply instructive and interesting matter. There 
has not been another such ransacking of libraries in recent 
years. And this, thus seems the proper place to express how 
much the author is indebted to the leading scientific writers for 
the facts, and in many instances, the very language herein given. 
Whenever it was possible, in quoting from an author, the very 
words, and then the proper credit, were given. But in multi¬ 
tudes of instances, much to the author’s discomfort, the facts re¬ 
fused to appear in concise and suitable form, and so had to be 
rewritten, immensely condensed, or newly fashioned altogether, 
in which cases, it might sometimes have been unjust to attach 
the original author’s name; hence, no credit at all in such case, 
is given. 

The plan and nature of the work have given the author an 
unlimited field; and he is culpable, if he has not given the reader 
a large mqss of facts not readily accessible in other forms—if, in 

( fact, he has not made the book rich and interesting. It is a 
book made by many men and women, most of them distin- 

*r 











PREFACE. 



guished, and all have contributed their best. Great care has 
been taken, especially in the poetic selections, to avoid the 
beaten path. Very many of the poems are new, but equal in all 
respects to the old favorites. And very many of the poems, 
also, are the hoarded treasures of many years, cut out of price¬ 
less scrap-books, where they had found a secure lodgment. 

Doubtless all makers and lovers of music, will appreciate 
the advantage of having in such convenient form, the words 
and music of so many of the old tried and ever popular songs. 

Mention must also be made of the creditable style in which 
the printers have done their work. Not often, even in recent 
years, has there been a work of such typographical beauty and 
excellence. 

Philadelphia, Pa. L. N. Chapin. 











essay 


ON 

THE BEAUTY, THE WONDER AND THE WISDOM 

% 

IN THE 

||tataial, Jutdltctual anb literal IMorlbs. 


WHAT CONSTITUTES 

A MODEL MAN AND A MODEL HOME. 


By THOMAS CHASE, Ltt. D., LL.D., 

PRESIDENT OF HAVERFORD COLLEGE. 

WRITTEN AS AN INTRODUCTION ESPECIALLY FOR 


“THE CROWN BOOK.” 


6 ^ 




Copyrighted, 1885, by JOHN C. WINSTON. 






















< 





INTRODUCTION. 

By THOMAS CHASE, Ltt.D., LL.D. 



HERE is no man living who cannot love and admire 
the Beautiful, the Wonderful, and the Wise,—the 
beautiful in art, in nature, and in human life; the 
wonderful in the works of God and the works of 
man; the wise in thought, in counsel, and in deed. Why is 
it that there are beauty and wonder and wisdom all around 
us, if we have but the eyes to see them ? It is because it was 
the design of our Heavenly Father to surround us with things 
which exalt, refine, ennoble, and make happy, and thus to 
make life worth the living. In this world of ours He has 
made “ all things beautiful in their time,” and He has given 
man the power and the longing to create works of his own 
which shadow forth more or less clearly that ideal beauty 
which dwells complete in God alone. Beauty is an idea or a 
quality which it is impossible to define; but that nameless 
grace, that symmetry, that harmony, that enchantment, which 
we call beauty, wherever it is manifested, is a shadow of its 
Divine Archetype, and derives its perfection from Him. Why 
is it that the heart of every one of us “ leaps up when we be¬ 
hold a rainbow in the sky ?” Why are all men filled with 
rapture by soft or gorgeous sunsets, or the splendors of the 
sky by night, the exultant grandeur of mountains, or the | 
“multitudinous laughter of the sea?” What is the subtile 

eloquence of flowers, by which “ the meanest one that blows ” 

iii 


I 














INTRODUCTION. 


ft*— 


IV 


A suggests thoughts the deepest and the holiest ? What secret 
| charm attends “the pomp of groves and garniture of fields?” 
Whence the delight we find in the rich plumage of the feath¬ 
ered tribe, the glittering gauze and burnished mail of insects, 
the “pale opal’s red and restless spark” and the violet light 
of the amethyst,—why are the voices of birds sweet music in 
all ears,—and why are we thrilled by great poems, paintings, 
and statues, by noble sentiments and heroic deeds, unless that 
they all speak to us in that mysterious and untranslatable, but 
most intelligible, language of beauty, which is not human but 
divine—all give us glimpses of something which is not earthly 
and transitory, like the frail, perishing object through which 
it is conveyed to our minds, but heavenly and eternal ? 

No enjoyments are greater than those derived from the love 
of the sublime and beautiful. Certainly time hangs not more 
heavily upon him whose leisure hours are spent in reading 
good books, and studying the wonders of nature and art either 
through his own eyes or in the descriptions given by intelligent 
travellers, than it hangs upon the votary of pleasure, who 
seeks his pastime in the haunts of dissipation, the maddening 
excitement of the gaming table, or frivolous amusements 
whose only object is the worst of suicides,—for it has been 
truly said that “ killing time ” is killing one’s own self. The 
love of the beautiful pre-eminently becomes the Christian. 
He sees both in the great productions of human art, which 
show how great He is who created the minds which wrought 
them, and in the countless beauties of the material universe, 
a constant revelation of the Father’s love. “ For,” as Whit¬ 
tier has so admirably said, 

“ Not alone in tones of awe and power 
He speaks to man; 

The cloudy horror of the thunder shower 
His rainbows span; 

And where the caravan 




V 


u. 






(3 OaSJ 










INTRODUCTION. 



Winds o’er the desert, leaving, as in air 
The crane-flock leaves, no trace of passage there, 
He gives the weary eye 
The palm-leaf shadow for the hot noon hours, 
And on its branches dry 
Calls out the acacia’s flowers; 

And, where the dark shaft pierces down 
Beneath the mountain roots, 

Seen by the miner’s lamp alone 

The star-like crystal shoots; 

So, where, the winds and waves below, 

The coral-branched gardens grow, 

His climbing weeds and mosses show 
Like foliage on each stony bough, 

Of varied hues more strangely gay 
Than forest leaves in autumn’s day: 

Thus, evermore, 

On sky, and wave, and shore, 

An all-pervading Beauty seems to say, 

God’s love and power are one.” 





The Wonderful is often the same as the Beautiful, for all 
beauty deserves our admiration and wonder. For the same 
reason the Wonderful is often the same as the Wise. Indeed, 
their wise and ingenious contrivance is not unfrequently the 
most noteworthy quality in wonderful objects. Hence we 
admire all great inventions. We give our wonder also to 
what is singular and strange, vast and grand, powerful, effica¬ 
cious, startling, mysterious, or sublime. Wonders of all these 
kinds, both in the works of nature and the works of man, will 
be found described in rich profusion in the extracts which have 
been brought together in this book. 

Beautiful and wonderful also is Wisdom, the highest pos¬ 
session of the human mind. Without it vain are philosophy 

I and science, and genius itself dazzles but to betray. Wisdom t 
is needed everywhere, in our highest pursuits and our lowest, | 
T in theory and in practice, in our studies and in our deeds, in T 
I thought, in feeling, and in action, in religion, science, politics, 

Eirio —♦-*— 














INTRODUCTION 


v 1 


education, in trade, manufacture, mechanical labors, in the 
common business and the simplest affairs of every day, in the 
privacy of our homes and in public life. Fortunate is it for 
man that in his pursuit of practical wisdom he is not confined 
to the dear school of his own experience. All men that have 
gone before him are his teachers. The maxims of the great 
and wise of all generations have been treasured up for his 
instruction. All the records of the past throw light upon our 
present duties and our present opportunities of benefiting our¬ 
selves and others. Deeds done and words spoken thousands 
of years ago speak to us as if they were of yesterday or to¬ 
day. If we are prudent, we shall gather profitable lessons for 
our own use from all “ notable things in history and biogra¬ 
phy,” and regard as “ the best department of all ” in literature 
the one which records the experience, thoughts, and maxims 
of the wise. 

But not only is it instructive to study the results of the best 
thought and experience of the past. It is well also to solve 
problems for ourselves. Indeed, no wise man is content to 
take all his opinions on simple trust in his fellow-men. He 
wishes to weigh and judge for himself, and come to his own 
conclusions. Let me be myself, he says, and no other man’s 
shadow. There is a field in which reason must bow before 
the higher claims of faith ; but outside of that field, each man 
is autocrat. We owe deference to knowledge or judgments 
superior to our own, it is true; but so far as we have the 
means of making our own decision, let us make it. This is 
our prerogative as men and as freemen. Thus we take the 
Bible, without note or comment, and interpret it for ourselves. 
Thus we survey the field of politics, and decide how we shall 
vote for President or representative. Thus we pass judgment 
on new theories on a thousand subjects. To assist us in these 
judgments, nothing in the way of intellectual culture comes 
amiss. The more we have studied, observed, and meditated, 








INTRODUCTION. 


T °—“§*— 


3V 


vii 


the more competent are we for this high task. Nor need we ^ 
disclaim the aid of the humblest methods of quickening the | 
perception and sharpening the mind. “ Problems, paradoxes, 
puzzles,” even these help to whet the ingenuity and keep our 
thinking powers in play. 

There are men whose whole life is spent among books, and 
who enjoy in their libraries the constant companionship of the 
great and wise of all generations. They read their works as 
wholes, or they open them at this or that passage as they 
choose. A great writer, Robert Southey, speaks thus of his 
communion with such friends: 


“My days among the dead are passed. 
Around me I behold, 

Where’er these casual eyes are cast, 
The mighty Minds of Old: 

My never failing friends are they, 
With whom I converse day by day. 


“ With them I take delight in weal. 
And seek relief in woe; 

And while I understand and feel 
How much to them I owe, 

My cheeks have often been bedewed 
With tears of thoughtful gratitude.” 



It is not only the dead with whom we converse in books, but 
also with the great among the living, absent in body but pres¬ 
ent in their best thoughts and feelings through the magic 
power of letters and the press. I have a warm sympathy 
however with that greater part of mankind, who are either 
too young to have access to many books, or to know how to 
avail themselves of it if they had, or are so engrossed in busi¬ 
ness or in the struggle for a support, as to have little time for 
reading. I am glad therefore to open the way for the still 
wider circulation of a book which presents briefly and in 
attractive form, things most notable in Nature, in Poetry, in 
Art, in Science, in History, in “Philosophy and Music,” a 

















INTRODUCTION. 



is grovelling and low. 


book of short, well-chosen extracts from noble or instructive v 

writings. Such a book cannot fail of a hearty welcome from j 

• 

young and old, whatever be their station in life, their educa¬ 
tion or attainments. It enables its reader in a few minutes to 
fill his mind with what will furnish food for profitable thought 
in the free intervals of the hours when he is engaged in his 
shop or his counting-room. It furnishes also occasion for 
interesting talk or profitable discussion in the family circle 
around the evening lamp. It teaches much ; it awakens also 
curiosity and the desire to know more. The youth will be 
prompted to devote his little savings to the purchase of a 
history, a poem, or a scientific treatise, in order to indulge 
further a thirst for knowledge which has been awakened by 
the collection of things “ beautiful, wonderful, and wise ” which 
has given him and the household so many pleasant evenings. 
Who can tell how great attainments in literature and science 
may spring from such beginnings ? 

After instructive and delightful reading, what comes in so 
well to close the evening’s pleasure as noble music, partic¬ 
ularly in its most charming form, the music of the human 
voice ? The songs of home and truth and love, the hymns 
of faith and devotion, awaken our deepest, holiest emotions, 
and are equally welcome to youth and old age. 

It is a great thing for a youth that his mind begins to 
expand and glow with a sense of the beauty and the wonder 
within his reach in the intellectual, material, and moral worlds. 

It is a great thing to desire to know, and to resolve to turn 
every stone to satisfy that desire. The drinking saloon and 
the tobacco shop, the gambling hell and haunts of dissipation 
of every kind, will have few charms for him who has once 
tasted the pure delights of literature, science, and art. He 
has started on a path that leads ever upward and onward. 
The love of things great and noble expels the desire for what 


(5*9 t 0- 




-'' I! 










INTRODUCTION. 


-O- 

ix 


t 

What is the great republican ideal in America? What is 
the true significance of American equality and freedom ? It 
is this : that as each man, without regard to the circumstances 
of his birth or his fortune, is entitled to a fair and equal field 
in the race of life, so each man should accept it as his duty and 
his destiny to make the best possible of himself, by the full 
culture of all his noble powers. Though born in a log-cabin, 
he may become as courteous as Sir Philip Sidney, as wise as 
Bacon or Newton, as learned as Scaliger, as eloquent as 
Webster, as useful, famous, loved, and honored as Washing¬ 
ton, Lincoln, and Gladstone, Longfellow and Whittier, Fulton 
and Edison, or as any of the lights and guides and benefactors 
of mankind,—so far as nature herself has not set limits to his 
ability. His country has given him the priceless boon of self- 
respect. With his native air he breathes in the breath of 
honorable ambition. Wherever he lives, he will be no cipher. 
In a small field or a great, as Providence shall decide, he will 
be a power for right and truth. 

President Garfield said, “ I never meet a ragged boy in the 
street without feeling that I may owe him a salute, for I know 
not what possibilities may be buttoned up under his coat.” 
Who shall tell the possibilities for good in our millions of 
boys and girls in America? By the simple virtues of indus¬ 
try, integrity, and self-culture they can climb the loftiest 
heights and fill up the grandest destinies. Mr. Chapin has 
quoted for us the prophetic words uttered by the late Lord 
Beaconsfield in 1844, long before he reached that highest 
place in the state on which he had fixed his eyes : “ Man can 
be what he pleases; every one can be exactly what he designs 
to be. I have resolved to hold a certain position, and, if I 
live, I will!' While I would not unduly discourage even 
such ambitions for place as this, so long as they are pursued 
only by honorable means, I would counsel the youth of our 
country to cherish a still more noble purpose, and make ex- 


-<j>——* 


•>-5—4—o> 











cellence in knowledge, wisdom, and virtue the object of their 
ambition, and then to pursue it with a will as resolute as Dis¬ 
raeli’s. Let us aim to dest ? .rve fame and worldly success; 
they will follow more surely, perhaps, than if we aimed at 
them directly. And whether they follow or not, we shall 
have what is worth much more in itself than they are worth 
without it. Knowledge and virtue are unfailing well-springs 
of happiness. The stores of learning in many and varied 
fields, the liberality of feeling united with steadfast loyalty to 
whatever is right and true, the soundness of judgment, the 
freedom both from fanaticism and its baser opposite, indiffer¬ 
ence to all great principles and noble causes, the breadth of 
vision, the access to enchanted worlds of imagination and art, 
as well as to the no less wondrous worlds of science—“ the 
thoughts that wander through eternity,”—these raise man to 
a different order of being from that to which the stupid boor 
belongs to whom all culture is denied. And if to knowledge 
is added sincere religious faith, absolute integrity, and un¬ 
swerving moral principle, together with a body kept sound 
and strong by a faithful observance of the laws of health, the 
highest objects of life have been attained, and we have the 
model man. 

“ The applause of listening senates to command,” to guide 
the councils of the nation, to be a master in science, literature, 
or art, to increase the wellbeing of mankind by wise philan¬ 
thropy, to dispel the mists of ignorance, to break the chains 
of vice, all these are worthy objects for the young men of 
America. The moral and intellectual heroes are already born 
who shall win great triumphs in these fields. Most of us, 
however, may be content to promote -similar objects in our 
own little neighborhood and in a quiet way. It is not the 
conspicuousness of the service that measures its worth. He 
that has cultivated his own best powers, conquered his baser 
self, and become filled with the love of all that is good and 











INTRODUCTION. 


W 



beautiful and true, has gained the surest source of happiness, 
and, blest himself, will be a source of blessing to others. He 
may leave ambition for earthly grandeur to those who seem 
destined to achieve it. 

But there is one goal which every young American should 
set before himself,—the establishment of a happy Christian 
home. With the dear partner of his struggles and his tri¬ 
umphs, his sorrows and his joys, let him set up his domestic 
altar, let him gather around him his books, the treasures from 
the fields and woods, from the air and sea, or lovely though 
inexpensive creations of human art. Home will be a temple 
for every virtue and every grace. In it children will grow 
up in the nurture of the Lord; and from it redeemed souls 
will pass into a heaven of whose joys it had already given 
them here a foretaste. 

It is because this volume published by my accomplished 
friend, Mr. Winston, will encourage the establishment of such 
homes, and will contribute to the beauty and happiness of 
very many of them, and lead their occupants to think on 
whatsoever things are true, and honorable, and just, and pure, 
and lovely, and of good report that I have written these 
words of sincere commendation. 

THOMAS CHASE. 

Haverford College, Pa., October, 1885. 






















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12 


INDEX. 


V J 

Justitia. 

June .. 


Keys of Grenada. 

Key to Thomas’ Heart, The... 
King of Denmark’s Ride, The. 

Lullaby.... 

Last Flower of the Year. 

Lullaby, A... 

Light. 


Last Leaf, The.* 

Lion of Belfort... 

Little Barbara. 


128 

33 
86 

106 

34 
37 
62 
67 
88 
94 


Looking Seaward, 


Last Heart Beats. 
Lent. 


Mist. 

My Flowers .. 

Marv of Dee. 

Mother’s Work. 

My Dog.. 

Mountains of Life. 

Moravian Hymns. 

North to the South, The. 


*4 

2 4 

7 1 

97 

41 

52 

49 

57 

§3 

86 

95 

4 S 






PAGE. 

Deacon’s Prayer, The. 168 

Doctor’s Story. 177 

Dirge for a Soldier. 191 

Enchanted Island, The. 79 

Eagle, The. ... . 111 

E’en Brings a’ Hame, The... 162 

Evening in Winter. 192 

From Elberon to Washington. 4^ 

Falls of Niagara, The. 84 

Farmer John. 98 

Fame. 107 

Fair Inez. 136 

First Sorrow, The. 1^8 

For a’ That and a’ That. 164 

Fragment, A. 172 

Ferryman’s Song. jor 

God’s Anvil. 35 

Good Parting Advice. 83 

Gradatim. 1C q 

Guide-Post, The. J4^ 

Gone to the War. j66 

God’s Lilies. . ... ^5 

„ * ................ . 200 

Homes of England, The. 

Highway Cow. 

Heavrn.. 

Haunted Palace, The... . j-. 

How Sleep the Brave. 

iw. The.... l \% 




<i> 


—ijn 
















































































INDEX. 


13 If? 


New Hampshire. . 

Old Canoe, The . 

Old Surprise, The. 

Owl Song. 

Ora Pro Me. 

Other World, The.. 

Our Own. 

One of the Sweet Old Chapters. 

On the Death of a Favorite Cat. 

Rose of all the World, The. 

Retribution. 

Resignation... 

Siller Croun, The. 

St. Catherine Borne by Angels. 

Soldier Rest, Thy Warfare O’er. 

Sphinx, The. 

Sky Lark, The. 

She Always was Tired... 

Sunken City, The. 

Sheridan’s Ride.. 

Sooner or Later. 

Suppose.. 

Smoke. 

Soul and Body. 

Snow Storm, The. 

Solitude.*. 

Three Fishers. 

‘’Twill be All the Same in a Hundred Years 
To the Statue on the Capitol at Washington 

To the Humblebee . 

Tired Mothers. 

Two Villages, The. 

Two Brides, The. 

Thunder Storm, A. 

Undiscovered Country, The. 

Under the Violets. 

Unfinished Still. 

Vanity. 

Virginians of the Valley. f .... 

World’s First Spring, The. 

When. 

Woman’s Cause is Man’s, The... 

Wave after Wave. 

Woman. 

Water Mill, The. 

When the Comet Strikes. 

We are Free ... . 

Woman's Question... 

Watchman’s Song... 

When Shall We all Meet Again. 


PAGE. 

. 

• 3 1 

• 65 


74 

76 

116 


134 

139 

176 

58 

61 

130 

36 

50 

47 


87 

90 
102 
110 
112 

H4 

*59 

l 73 

185 

39 

42 

61 

9 1 
100 

138 

155 

161 

95 

I 35 
170 

167 

189 

30 

56 

63 

66 

119 

120 
122 

125 , 
144 A 

195 

199 1 
















































































14 


INDEX. 


-_- 

$ef some; yoM&siiE; $£ogj£? 



05 MAN 



<KXIl o <^^^=2> o G > ^ 0 

PAGE. 

Ancient Egyptian Mines.240 

All about Lead Pencils. . 256 

Britannia Tubular Bridge, The. 204 

Brooklyn Bridge, The. 206 

Baalbec and its Great Stones. 232 

Behind the Armor. 246 

Bayard Taylor at the Pyramids. 253 

Broken Cable, The. 264 

Cincinnati Bridge, The. 206 

Chicago Tunnel. 223 

Chinese Method of Printing. 255 

Crown Jewels of France. 2^8 

Concerning Artificial Diamonds... 268 

Chinese Jugglery.270 

Diking in Holland. 222 

Deep Mine, A. ’ 27 -, 

Dairymple’s Big Farm.* * * 27 . 

Elgin Marbles, The... * * * 208 

Egypt’s Mechanical Marvels.[ . 022 

First Railroad, The. * ]’**’ 22 „ 

Fifteen Hundred Feet Under Ground.^>48 

Famous Horses of Venice, The. 247 

Flying Machines. .. . . ^ 

Finding the Meridian.* * * * ... -1 

Famous Indian Egg Dance. . 

Great St. Louis Bridge, The.. 

Great Cathedrals, The . T 

Great Wal 1 of China, The. *//**’ . 

Great Nevada Flume, The.] . ^ 

Great Cincinnati Organ, The.’ .. | 

Great Strasburg Clock, The. $ 

Gigantic Garden, A. . 

Great Washington Monument, The. !."!!.'*! . 26? 

How Some Great Cities Receive their Water Sunniv.*. t.!, 

How They Tell when it is Going to Rain. ‘ . “A 

Hoosac Tunnel . .*. 

How the Great Stones Were Moved.\ . 22 3 

How to Measure the Speed of Trains.’ ’ * * ’ *. 2 34 

How We shall Travel in the Future. ’ ] . 

How Vast are the Brilish Dominions... 

How Artificial Ice is Made. . * * * 2 £5 

How They Drop Shot. 2 ^° 

. 271 


How Soon Can You Count 2,500,000,000. 



























































I 


INDEX. 


International Bone of Contention, The. 

Interesting Facts. 

Irrigation on a Gigantic Scale. 

Krupp’s Great Gun Factory ; . 

Louisville Bridge, The. 

Laocoon Group, The. 

Lion of Belfort, The. 

Liberty Enlightening the World. 

Lofty Station, A. 

Leaning Tower of Pisa. 

Largest Steamships, The. 

Musconetcong Tunnel. 

Mont Cenis Tunnel. 

Magnificent Ruins. 

Mechanical Marvel, A. .. 

Marvels of Ingenuity. 

Most Remarkable Echo, The. 

More Wonderful Things to Follow. 

Niagara Railway Bridge. 

Not yet Built . ... 

Pearls and Pearl Divers. 

Population of Some of the Great Cities. 

Proper Dimensions for a Flag. 

Perfect Genius of a Machine. 

Queen of Lace, The. 

Rules for Working Interest. 

Some of the Great Bridges. 

Some Famous Statuary... 

Statues of Memnon. 

Some Noted Lighthouses ... . 

Some of the Great Bells. 

Some of the Great Tunnels. 

St. Gothard Tunnel. 

Some of the Giant Pearls. 

Seven Wonders of the World. 

Some Big Guns . . 

Smallest Steam Engine in the World. 

Shooting Hoosac Tunnel. 

Standard Weight, The. . 

Story of the Cable. 

Some Fast Work. 

Thames Tunnel. 

Things New and Old. 

Taj Mahal, The . 

Victoria Bridge, The. 

Venus de Medici. 

Venus de Milo. 

Value of Common Sense . 

Valuable Table... 

Wonders of Man Found in Various Museums 

Where Does the Speed Lie . 

Where All the Great Stones Come From. 

Whispering Gallery in St. Paul’s. 





261 

273 

265 

204 

208 

209 

210 
228 

234 

258 
224 
224 
228 

249 

267 

272 

276 

205 

224 

225 

259 
267 

2 75 
227 

249 

203 
208 

208 
213 
219 

223 

224 

226 

23 s 

236 

245 
25 1 
2^2 

262 
272 
224 
23I 
245 

204 

209 
209 


. . . . 221 Y 

••• 2 3° T 
, . . . 232 c f 

.••275 1 
































































INDEX. 


T? 1 © 


J 


<?> 



PAGE. 

An Actor’s Triumph... 280 

Annual Incomes of Some of the Leading Rulers . 282 

Anecdote of Henry Clay.. .. 296 

Anecdote of Rothschild. 308 

Assumed Names of Authors. 311 

Absence of Mind.• ?ir 

Attic Bee. . 330 

Boy’s Courage, A.!..*.*!.’! 309 

Boy’s Journal, A... . r 

Brilliant Reception, A. . . o 14 

Bridge of Sighs.. 

Bloody Mary... 

Bride of the Sea. . .’ 9 , r 

Black Hole of Calcutta, The.... '£ 2 

Blue Laws. 

Brave Workman, A. 

Charge of the Light Brigade, The. ’ * * * 29 g. 

Concerning Jay Gould. * ’’ ~ 07 

Concerning Roger Williams. . .......... iiq 

Concerning La Tude. ...*. 

Carlyle and His Burned Book. 1 *.!."!. 310 

Curious Things About London.. 

Columbia. / . % 

Cradle of Liberty.*. 

Discovery of Gold in California, The.*. 

Dark Day, The. ..^ ^ 

Early Virginians. .^ 

Eighteen Hundred Years After Death... . 

Effect of Daniel Webster’s Oratory. . . 

Earthquake Terror of 1750, The .*. ~ •* 

Emerald Isle. .*. 3 1 

Eternal City, The. . 33 ° 

Few More Left, A. * ..... 3 o° 

Great English Land Owners, The.. ... " . 2 o^ 

Great Authors Often Dull Conversers. 2b 7 

Great Expedition, A.. ’. 2 94 

How Franklin Tied His Money Up. [. 3°5 

Horsemanship in India.I.. 2 9 l 

Hobson’s Choice.. 2 97 

In the Maelstrom. . 3 J 7 

. .• 2S8 

---- 

-- . 


4 









































































-i—$ 


♦ 


INDEX. 


1Z 




+ 


<T> 


PAGE. 

Items. 329 

Instances of Remarkable Memory. 293 

Instances of Great Strength. 301 

Letter of a School Boy.. 295 

Lecture Not in the Star Course.„. 326 

Lincoln’s Famous Letter to Hooker. 328 

Magnificent Singing.„. 310 

Man Can be What He Pleases. 316 

Our Obelisk. 293 

Oratory of Edmund Burke.304 

One Hundred Years Ago. 306 

Popular Names of States. 284 

Pen and Ink Sketch of Henry Clay. 317 

Presidents We Have Had, The. 322 

Power and Influence of the Orator, The. 324 

Phalaris’ Bull. 325 

Queer Names . 317 

Rising Like Phoenix from Her Ashes. 329 

Singular Practice, A. 297 

Story of Laura Bridgman. 300 

Seven Sleepers, The. 302 

Some Reminiscences of Lincoln. 303 

Submerged City, The. 307 

Sailing over Buried Nations. 318 

Salaries of Some U. S. Officers, The. 323 

Thrilling Incident at Niagara, A. 290 

Timidity of Orators, The.323 

Thrilling Incident, A. 325 

What Were the Crusades . 279 

What Was the Reformation.286 

Who Was Caspar Hauser.... . 299 

Yellow Fever Story, A. 327 


■4'. gfc) ■sb* dfa *4/" <$?> nT- 

SOME NOTABLE THINGS IN NATURE, 


^ ^ •'T- “T* ^ ■ 7 F ^ "'T* 


PAGE. 

Abundance of Life, The. 3 ^° 

American Wonders. 377 

Breathing Cave, A. 33 $ 

Balloon Spider, The . 343 

Bird that Turns Summersaults. 350 

Burmese Elephants. 37 2 

Breathe Pure Air Only. 374 

Biggest Flower in the World, The. 382 

Bird Fish. 3^7 

Beautiful Pleiades, The. 4 ° 2 

----- 

•2 


<*> 


■r 
















































































18 


INDEX. 


PAGE. 


Collision with a Swordfish. 34 ^ 

Curious Things About Bats. 37 ^ 

Cow Tree, The. 379 

Chambered Nautilus, The. 393 

Center of Motion of all the Heavenly Bodies, The. 402 

Dragon Fly’s Flight, The. 353 

Deep Counter Currents . 365 

Diamonds of South Africa. 37 1 

Devil Fish, The. 394 

El Capitan .. 359 

Fingal’s Cave . 336 

Facts About Man. 33S 

Flights of Birds. 35 2 

First Glimpse of the Yo Semite.*.358 

Fifty Days’ Storm of Sand, A... 369 

Floating Island, A. 370 

Foot of a Horse, The. 373 

Fata Morgana, The. 375 

Flexible Stone. 376 

Faithful Dog, A. 381 

Fish that Builds Nests, A... 388 

Fish that Gives Shocks. 395 

Free Ride, A . 397 

Giant Trees of California, The. . 341 

Go to the Ant. 356 

Gulf Stream, The. 365 

Great Maelstrom as It Is. 367 

Gift of the Nile, The. 370 

How the Chicken Grows in the Egg.347 

How the Eye is Swept and Washed. 350 

Human Life the Thing After All. 353 

How Large is the Sun. 364 

How the Spider Spins Her Web..... 373 

Johnny’s Essay on “The Tode”. 346 

Luray Caverns. 336 

Largest Cavern in the World, The.... 337 

Lanterns in the Deep Sea. 390 

Mammoth Cave . 335 

Magnetic Cave, A. 336 

Mountain of Salt, A. 376 

Moon is a Dead World, The.. 386 

Marvels too Numerous to Mention. 398 

Norway Rats on a March ... 349 

Natural Bridge in Virginia . ..• 364 

Nimrod Among the Fishes, A... 389 

Our Yellowstone National Park. 339 

Oldest Timber in the World, The. 342 

Oysters Growing on Trees. 389 

Order is Heaven’s First Law. 399 

Plants that Eat Animals. 344 

Petrified Forest, A. 34c; 

Pigeons of Venice, The. 3151 

Power of Niagara, The. 366 


'^ 4 ?— 































































h)h-$s==s— 
i 

<?> 


INDEX. 





Power that Lifts the Ocean, A. 

Power of the Waves. 

Power of Growth.... 

Portuguese Man of War. 

Queer Tree, A. 

Remarkable Day at Niagara, A. 

Rose Gardens of France, The. 

Reigning Beauties of the Sea, The. 

Some Most Notable Caves. 

Symbolic Meaning of Precious Stones. 

Spider’s Silk Stronger than Steel. 

Superstitions About Bees. 

Spider’s Appetite, A. 

Some Things Concerning Grass. 

Strength of Materials, The. 

Sand Columns and Water Spouts. 

Some More of California’s Jewels. 

Stinging Tree, The. 

Scent of the Roses, The. 

Ship of Pearl, The.. 

Sea Beauty, A. 

Some Wonderful Velocities. 

Tailor Bird, The. 

Things not Generally Known. 

Twelve Thousand Fold Sun, A. 

Unconscious Influence.. . 

Universe System at Last, A. 

Velocity of Light. 

Veritable Sea Bossy, A. . 

Why Called Rosewood . 

Wonders of the Flea, The. 

Whirlpool, The.. 

Weights and Values of Some Largest Diamonds 

What Burdens We Bear. 

What Dynamite Is. 

What Would Happen if.. 

When the Heavens Shall Pass Away. 

Wonders of the Universe . 

What the Microscope Reveals. 

Where is the Oyster’s Mouth. 

Wonders in the Starry Heavens. 

Wonderful Thing Passing in the Heavens, A. ... 
Years of the Planets. The. 


PAGE. 


368 

369 f 

384 ? 

3S8 

343 

362 

383 
387 

335 
348 


353 

354 

355 

361 

363 

3 6 4 
374 

379 

383 

39 i 

397 

400 

35 i 

380 


401 

349 

403 

386 
390 
34 6 
357 

367 

37 2 

375 

378 

380 

384 

385 

387 
394 

399 

4°3 

400 


* 






-n-~ 





















































































<*> 




BBT DEPARTMENT OF ALL. 

|=sj 


PAGE. 


After Dark. 

Being Sold out by the Sheriff... 

Beautiful Incident, A. 

Be Faithful.... 

Baby’s Death, The. 

Busy Men. 

Business with Banks. 

Beautiful Words and Full of Comfort. 

Courage in Every Day Life. 

Childish Trust. 

Chinese are Evidently Pagans, The. 

Danger of Riches, The. 

Definitions of Bible Terms. 

Dip it Up. ..'. 

Economy and Debt. 

How to Kill the Minister. 

Greater Love Hath no Man. 

Ingersoll on Temperance. 

In Behalf of the Children. 

If I Had Leisure... 

Keep Home Bright. 

Lost at Last . 

Life is a Campaign. 

More Sense than Nonsense, after All. 

Not Sebald, but Vischer. 

Napoleon s Estimate of Christ. 

Negro’s Prayer, A. 

On Behalf of the Young Folks. 

Person of Jesus, The. 

Pretty Fancy, A... 

Principle that Holds Good in Work, as well as War, A. 

Psalms, The. 

Perishable Nature of Human Greatness.•... 

Respect Due to Wives. 

Stick to it, and Succeed. 

Something Nice from Emerson. 

Scotchman s Praver, A. 

Simple Secret, The. 

Sermon on Patience, A. 

Success. 

Success in Life . 

Shadow Visible from the Throne. 


435 

4°7 

410 

4-4 

43 2 

436 

433 

439 

411 
42S 

44 6 

420 

430 

41 - 

4*7 

437 

44 1 

4 12 
4 J 3 

4*4 

424 

4 2 7 

446 

40S 

4 12 

419 

4 21 
444 
416 

4 2 3 

4 2 5 
430 

434 

44 2 
410 

4 k 3 

422 

4 2 3 
425 

4 2 7 

429 

444 


1 


INDEX. 



Iff 

► 

" * 





cr j 

fL '' 

u.i« <• 






< 4 > 

























































































































INDEX. 


-A—-<£ 


< 4 > 


TAGE. 

Testimony of the Aged.426 

Talmage on Long Life.431 

Unestimated Income of the Farmer.418 

Value of Spare Moments, The. 437 

Willing to Die for Me..'.407 

Why Some People are Poor. 408 

Worth of a Conviction, The. 415 

Woman’s Influence. ,.423 

Written Years and Years Ago by Eli Perkins.433 

Who Are Rich . 436 

Work. 441 

Waterloo. 443 

Wages Abroad. 445 

Wise Parent, A. 445 





Arguing with a Lawyer. 

Buzzing Up.- • • 

Cannon Ball Problem. 

Does the Mississippi River Run up Hill. 
Do We See the Sun Soon as it Rises... 

Double Header, The. 

Expression of the Eye. 

Famous Wheel Questions The. 

Ferguson’s Mechanical Paradox ...... 

Famous Syllogismus Crocodilus, The.... 

Heart and String Puzzle, The. 

How to Find a Person’s Name. 

No Such Thing as Motion. 

Neck-tie Puzzle, The. 

Problems... 

Problem of Achilles and the Torto'se... 

Riddle, A—The Letter H. 

Riddle Worth Remembering, A. 

Stupid Carpenter, A. 

To Cut Two Crosses out of a Rectangle. 

To Find a Person’s Age. 

United Hearts, The. 

Variation of the Clock of St Paul’s. 

When is it Tuesday.. 

Where Does it Come From. 


449 , 


+■ 


21 If? 


453 

455 
449 
449 
449 

45 6 

457 

449 

45 1 

45 2 
455 

458 

455 

454 

450 
452 

459 

460 

450 

45 6 
459 
454 
450 

450 

451 


3—n- 


O 










































































Annie Lawrie. 

Auld Robin Gray. 

America...... 

Cornin’ Thro’ the Rye. 

Dearest Spot on Earth to Me, The. 

Gospel Train, The. 

Good-Bye, Brothers. 

Home, Sweet Home. 

Kathleen Mavourneen. 

Killarney. 

Keep Me from Sinking Down. 

Long, Long Ago.. 

Mignon’s Song. 

My Lord’s Writing All the Time.. 

Nancy Lee. 

Oh, Sing that Gentle Strain Again 

Old Oaken Bucket. ... 

Robin Adair. 

Reign, Master Jesus. 

Shells of Ocean. 

Some Day. 

Swing Low, Sweet Chariot. 

Steal Away. 

’Tis the Last Rose of Summer. 

Those Evening Bells. 

There’s Nae Room for Twa. 

Twickenham Ferry... 

Turn Back Pharaoh’s Army. 

We Shall Walk through the Valley 


PAGE. 

. 464 

• 495 

• 503 

. 470 


• 512 

• 465 

. 468 

. 4S4 

. 506 
. 471 

• 474 
. 510 

• 498 

• 479 
. 482 

• 494 

. 5 11 
. 466 

486 

• 504 

• 507 

• 4 6 3 

• 473 

• 490 
. 501 

• 505 

• 509 


<i> 


Hi—o- 




























































































































































/ 










eA9 


IipiR. _ 

CHAPIN. 

stand a thousand 

ined Capitol ap- 

underneath, where the peo- 
3le go 

To and fro, to and fro, 

From its lifted place in the sculp¬ 
tured wall 

A sweet, sad face looks down on 
all— 

Looks down on all, yet sees them 
not,— 

This sleepless sentry of the spot 

Looks down on all, yet sees them 
not. 

Over the inner southern entrance to the Supreme Court Room in the new City Hat I, in 
Philadelphia, is a beautiful head of the Goddess Justice. The artist has adhered to the old con¬ 
ception. The eyes are blindfolded. 


— f ?L 













































































































































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


—< s ■■ ^>~ 

26 



It is a tender woman’s face, 

Inwrought with many a dainty grace, 
And fashioned full of tenderness 
To feel humanity’s distress,— 

With bloom and beauty braided there, 
Wearing their shining" crown of hair. 
Yet tears have never stained that face, 
Nor sight of sorrow dimmed its grace. 



For this is Justice, blinded so 
Lest some sight of human woe 
Should impair her perfect sense 
And estimate of evidence:—■ 

Lest judgment should be warped by Hate, 
Or Pity foul her sacred state. 

Sitting in darkness palpable, 

She weighs each doubtful balance well; 
Nor tears, nor face of friend destroys 
Her perfect mental equipose. 

Alas, that men should so much fear 
The weight of just one little tear. 



While these columns stand sublime, 
Towering on the heights of time, 
Ah, how often shall these gates 
Witness scenes of loves and hates 
Loves that see their idols slain; 

Hates that hateful power regain ; 
Judgment sometimes just shall be, 
And sometimes punish unjustly. 

And the prisoner, passing here 
Orestes like, pursued by fear, 

Gazing upward at that face, 

Of pity shall detect no trace. 

Here shall foe, and here shall friend, 


A 

• m 


<i> 






























AND 7 THE WISE. 


And rich and poor alike attend, 

And State and Nation consreofate 
Their rights and wrongs to adjudicate. 

Ah, this face, so wondrous fair, 

With the glory in her hair,— 

Blinded to the evidence 
Of the most important sense,— 
Blinded, lest her eyes should see 
Tears of forceful sympathy, 

Is a false and treacherous type 
Of Justice of divinest stripe. 

’Tis the vagabond outcast 
Of a dead and buried past,— 
Plundered from some sculptured pile 
Stranded by the oblivious Nile. 

Justice should be Argus-eyed;— 

Every sense be opened wide, 

Giving just the proper weight 
To all things that extenuate. 

This mankind’s most sacred trust: 

To be merciful is just. 

God is just, yet he can see 
All our tears and misery. 

He that is not merciful 
Lacketh much, yea, lacketh all. 

And Justice cannot justice be, 

In divinest quality, 

Which nothing but our sin can see. 




Lord, when before thy bar I rise, 
At the general, grand Assize, 
Bowed and broken with the curse, 
To confront thy universe, 

There to answer, one by one 



























































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


<?> 


28 



For the deeds that I have done,— 

Oh, then, let blinded Justice rise, 

Take the bandage from her eyes, 

See my grief, and hear my cries:— 

See the dominant force within— 

The overmastering power of sin— 

The ever-present, regnant sense 
Of harsh and hard environments— 
That oft destroyed my sovereigii claim, 
And right of eminent domain:— 

See the multitudinous tears, 

And arid wastes and wars of years, 
Across whose stretches I have come, 
Journeying to my eternal home. 

All these things let Justice see— 

Even Justice plead for me. 

Lost and ruined world of woe, 
Drowned in Sorrow’s overflow, 

Needs not Justice half so much 
As Mercy’s healing touch; 

And Justice cannot justice be 
Which nothing but our sin can see. 









THE IVY. 


USHING the clods of earth aside, 
Leaving the dark where foul things hide. 
Spreading its leaves to the Summer sun, 
Bondage ended, freedom won; 

So, my soul, like the ivy be, 

Rise, for the sunshine calls for thee! 





















-«~ 




AND THE WISE. 


29 


Climbing up as the seasons go, 

Looking down upon things below, 

Twining itself in the branches high, 

As if the frail thing owned the sky; 

So, my soul, like the ivy be, 

Heaven, not earth, is the place for thee. 


Wrapping itself round the giant oak, 

Hiding itself from the tempest’s stroke; 

Strong and brave is the fragile thing, 

For it knows one secret, how to cling; 

So, my soul, there’s strength for thee, 
Hear the Mighty One, “Lean on Me!” 

Green are its leaves when the world is white, 
For the ivy sings through the frosty night; 
Keeping the hearts of oak awake, 

Till the flowers shall bloom, and the Spring 
shall break; 

So, my soul, through the Winter’s rain, 
Sing the sunshine back again. 


Opening its green and fluttering breast, 

Giving the timid birds a nest; 

Coming out from the Winter wild, 

To make a wreath for the Holy Child; 

So let my life like the ivy be, 

A help to man, and a wreath for Thee. 



















30 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


THE WORLD’S FIRST SPRING. 


y4 sW 


°f ^ ie sout ^b sweet lands, 

Borne over seas in bands, 

By strong sea-winds that blow— 

Home coming, ere the June, 

To set the north in tune 

From silence of the snow— 

Swallow, and lark, and thrush, the birds of a 
thousand springs 

With flutter of song and heart, and stir of a 
thousand wing's. 


M 




eljiU 


Over the silent earth 
A sweet, new song of birth 
Passes from deep to deep, 

Waking the echoes clear 
In mountain caverns drear 
Where winter stays to sleep, 

Swallow, and lark, and thrush, how many songs 
do you know, 

Learned in the land of the sun, where the red 
south roses blow ? 

Through all the east and west 
Glad birds now build their nests 
For love’s sweet by-and-by; 

Where, while soars and sings, 

One, folding happy wings, 

Shall brooding, cease to fly. 

Swallow, and lark, and thrush, in the sun or 
the soft spring rain, 

Each in its way builds best, nor any shall build 
in vain. 


A 

{ 


v 















































AND THE WISE. 


31 



Fair grow the days and long, 

Sweet in the air and strong, 

With winds from hill and sea. 

Under the wide-arched sky, 

From dawn to dusk they fly, 

While earth holds jubilee. 

Swallow, and lark, and thrush, what do you 
know when you sing 

Of Time’s dead years? To you this is the 
world’s First Spring. 





<t> 


CANO, 


HERE the rocks are gray and the shore is steep, 

And the waters below look dark and deep, 

Where the rugged pine, in its lonely pride, 

Leans gloomily over the murky tide, 

Where the reeds and rushes are long and rank, 

And the weeds grow thick on the winding bank, 
Where the shadow is heavy the whole day through, 
There lies at its moorings the old canoe. 

The useless paddles are idly dropped, 

Like a sea-bird’s wings that the storm had lopped, 
And crossed on the railing one o’er one, 

Like the folded hands when the work is done; 

While busily back and forth between 
The spider stretches his silvery screen, 

And the solemn owl, with his dull “ too-hoo,” 

Settles down on the side of the old canoe. 

The stern half sunk in the slimy wave, 

Rots slowly away in its living grave, 




































32 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


<?> 



And the green moss creeps o er its dull decay, 
Hiding its moldering dust away, 

Like the hand that plants o’er the tomb a flower, 

Or the ivy that mantles the falling tower; 

While many a blossom of loveliest hue 
Springs up o’er the stern of the old canoe. 

The currentless waters are dead and still, 

But the light winds play with the boat at will, 

And lazily in and out again 

It floats the length of the rusty chain, 

Like the weary march of the hands of time, 

That meet and part at the noontide chime, 

And the shore is kissed at each turning: anew. 

By the dripping bow of the old canoe. 

Oh, many a time, with a careless hand, 

I have pushed it away from the pebbly strand, 

And paddled it down where the stream runs quick, 
Where the whirls are wild, and the eddies thick, 

And laughed as I leaned o’er the rocking side, 

And looked below in the broken tide, 

To see that the faces and boats were two, 

That were mirrored back from the old canoe. 

But now, as I lean o’er the crumbling side, 

1 O 7 

And look below in the sluggish tide. 

The face that I see there is graver grown, 

And the laugh that I hear has a soberer tone, 

And the hands that lent to the light skiff wino-s. 
Have grown familiar with sterner things; 

But I love to think of the hours that sped 
As I rocked where the whirls their white spray shed, 
Ere the blossoms waved, or the green grass grew 
O’er the moldering stern of the old canoe. 




+ 























AND THE WISE. 


•>-§—*§■—° 

33 


BY BAYARD TAYLOR. 


. 3 - 







<?>: 


H3-* 


A 


fROM the desert I come to thee, 


>n a stallion shod with fire; 

And the winds are left behind 
In the speed of my desire. 

Under thy window I stand, 

And the midnight hears my cry: 

I love thee, I love but thee! 

With a love that shall not die 
Till the sun grows cold , 

And the stars are old , 

And the leaves of the Judgment 
Book imfold! 




Look from thy window, and see 
My passion and my pain! 

I lie on the sands below, 

And I faint in thy disdain. 

Let the night-winds touch thy brow 
With the heat of my burning sigh, 

And melt thee to hear the vow 
Of a love that shall not die 
Till the sun grows cold , 

And the stars are old , 

And the leaves of the Judgment 
Book unfold! 

- <x-v -ojera* 

My steps are nightly driven, 

By the fever in my breast, 

To hear from thy lattice breathed 
The word that shall give me rest. 

Open the door of thy heart, 



T 

«A* 












































’■O — 



•H- 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 

And open thy chamber door, 

And my kisses shall teach thy lips 
The love that shall fade no more 
Till the sun grows cold , 

And the stars are old , 

And the leaves of the Judgment 
Book unfold! 


tr • — • — 


^-v-v-^-v-v-^—v-v-<r-v-v-^. ^ku 


BY ALFRED TENNYSON. 




'(§5s=i--- 

|WEET and low, sweet and low, 

Wind of the western sea, 

(^Low, low, breathe and blow, 

Wind of the western sea! 

Over the rolling 1 waters go, 

O O J 

Come from the dying moon, and blow, 

Blow him again to me; 

O 7 

While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. 

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, 

Father will come to thee soon; 

Rest, rest, on mother’s breast, 

Father will come to thee soon; 

Father will come to his babe in the nest, 

Silver sails all out of the west, 

Under the silver moon; 

Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. 






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AND THE WISE. 


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GOD’8 ANVIL, 




FROM THE GERMAN. 





- 20 . 


IAIN’S furnace heat within me quivers, 


God’s breath upon the flame doth blow. 

And all my heart in anguish shivers, 

And trembles at the fiery glow; 

And yet I whisper, As God will! 

And in his hottest fire hold still. 

He comes and lays my heart all heated, 
On the hard anvil, minded so 

Into his own fair shape to beat it, 

With the great hammer,blow on blow; 

And yet I whisper, As God will! 

And at his heaviest blows hold still. 

He takes my softened heart and beats it, 
The sparks fly off at every blow; 

He turns it o’er and o’er and heats it, 

And lets it cool, and makes it glow; 

And yet I whisper, As God will! 

And in his mighty hands hold still. 

Why should I murmur? for the sorrow, 
Thus only longer lived would be; 

Its end may come, and will, to-morrow, 
When God has done his work in me; 

So I say, trusting, As God will! 

And trusting to the end, hold still. 

He kindles for my profit purely 
Affliction’s glowing fiery brand, 

And all his heaviest blows are surely 
Inflicted by a master hand; 

So I say, praying, As God will! 

And hope in Him, and suffer still. 


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36 




THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


THE SILLER 


BY SUSANNA BLAMIRE. 


ND ye sail walk in silk attire, 
And siller hae to spare, 

Gin ye’ll consent to be his bride, 
jjf Nor think o’ Donald mail*.” 


O, wha wad buy a silken goun 
Wi’ a puir broken heart? 

Or what’s to me a siller croun 
Gin frae my love I part? 





The mind whose meanest wish is pure, 
Fat* dearest is to me, 

And ere I’m forced to break my faith, 
I’ll la3^ me doun an’ dee. 

For I hae vowed a virgin’s vow 
My lover’s fate to share, 

An’ he has gi’en to me his heart, 

And what can man do mail*? 






His mind and manners won my heart, 
He gratefu’ took the gift; 

And did I wish to seek it back, 

It wad be wain* than theft. 



The langest life can ne’er repay 
The love he bears to me, 

And ere I’m forced to break my faith, 
I’ll lay me doun an’ dee. 






















































I 




BY LUCY LARCOM. 


gentian was the year’s last child, 
Born when the winds were hoarse and wild 
:With wailing over buried flowers, 

The playmates of their sunnier hours. 


The gentian hid a thoughtful eye 
Beneath deep fringes, blue and shy; 
Only by warmest noon-beams won, 
To meet the welcome of the sun. 



The gentian, her long lashes through, 
Looked up into the sky so blue, 

And felt at home—the color, there, 

The good God gave herself to wear. 

The gentian searched the fields around, 
No flower companion there she found. 
Upward, from all the woodland ways, 
Floated the aster’s silvery ra}'s. 






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The gentian shut her eye-lids tight 
On falling leaf and frosty night; 

And close her azure mantle drew, 
While weary winds around her blew. 


The gentian said, “The world is cold: 
Yet one clear glimpse of heaven I hold. 
The sun’s last thought is mine to keep; 


Enough- 


mow let me go to sleep.” 


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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




38 


BY SUSAN COOLIDGE. 


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Those sad-faced Moors from their beloved Spain; 
jin long procession to the wind-swept bay, 

With sobs and muttered curses, fierce with pain, 
They took their woful road, and never came again. 

Behind them lay the homes of their delight, 

The marble court-yards and cool palaces, 

Where fountains flashed and shimmered day and night 
’Neath dusk and silver blooms of blossoming trees. 

They closed the echoing doors, and bore away the keys. 


Palace and pleasure gardens are forgot; 

The marble walls have crumbled Ions: ag-o; 

Their site, their ownership, remembered not, 

And helpless wrath alike and hopeless woe 

Are cooled and comforted by Time’s all-healing flow. 


But still the children of those exiled Moors, 

A sad, transplanted stem on alien shore, 

Keep as their trust—and will while time endures— 

The rusty keys which their forefathers bore; 

The keys of those shut doors which ne’er shall open more. 

The doors are dust, but yet the hope lives on; 

The walls are dust, but memories cannot die; 

And still each sad-faced father tells his son 
Of the lost homes, the blue Granadian sky, 

The glory and the wrong of those old days gone by. 


-th- 


Ah, keys invisible of happy doors 

Which long ago our own hands fastened tight! 
We treasure them as do those hapless Moors, 


* 


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AND THE WISE. 


-o' 

39 


Though dust the palaces of our deli ght, 

Vacant and bodiless, and vanished quite. 

Keys of our dear, dead hopes, we prize them still, 

Wet them with tears, embalm with useless sighs; 

And at their sight and touch our pulses still 
Waken and throb, and under alien skies 
We taste the airs of home and gaze in long-closed eyes. 


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bmhwblwWSBbmmwwhBWwBBBKSmSSKmKKBBBBmBKKmBBSSBI! 




BY CHARLES KINGSLEY. 



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HREE fishers went sailing out into the west, 

Into the west as the sun went down; 

Each thought of the woman who loved him best, 

And the children stood watching them out of the town. 
For men must work, and women must weep, 

And there’s little to earn, and many to keep, 

Though the harbor bar be moaning. 


Three wives sat up in the light-house tower, 

And trimmed the lamps as the sun went down; 

They looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower, 
And the night-rack came rolling up ragged and brown, 
But men must work, and women must weep, 

Though storms be sudden and waters deep, 

And the harbor-bar be moaning. 




Three corpses lay out on the shining sands, 

In the morning gleam as the tide went down, 

And the women are weeping, and wringing their hands, 
For those who will never come back to the town. 

For men must work, and women must weep, 

And the sooner it’s over, the sooner to sleep, 

And good-bye to the bar and its moaning. 


-to — 2 - 



























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40 




THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


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BY FELICIA HEMANS. 


SHE stately Homes of England, 

How beautiful they stand! 

Amidst their tall ancestral trees, 

|©J O’er all the pleasant land ; 

The deer across their greensward bound 
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Through shade and sunny gleam, 

I And the swan glides past them with the sound 
Of some rejoicing stream. 


The merry Homes of England! 

Around their hearths by night, 

What gladsome looks of household love 
Meet in the ruddy light, 

There woman’s voice flows forth in sons- 

o > 

Or childish tale is told; 

Or lips move tunefully along 
Some glorious page of old. 



The blessed Homes of England! 

c5 

How softly on their bowers 

Is laid the holy quietness 

That breathes from Sabbath hours! 

Solemn, yet sweet, the church-bell’s chime 
Floats through their woods at morn; 

All other sounds, in that still time, 

Of breeze and leaf are born. 

The cottage Homes of England! 

By thousands on her plains, 

They are smiling o’er 
the silvery 
brooks, 


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AND THE WISE. 


41 i 


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And round the hamlet-fanes. 
Through glowing orchards 
forth they peep, 

Each from its nook of leaves; 
And fearless there the lowly sleep, 
As the bird beneath their eaves. 



The free, fair Homes of England! 
Long, long, in hut and hall, 

May hearts of native proof be reared 
To guard each hallowed wall! 

And green forever be the groves, 

And bright the flow’ry sod, 

Where first the child’s glad spirit loves 
Its country and its God. 




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MIST. 

BY HENRY DAVID THOREAU. 

Low-anchored cloud, 
Newfoundland air, 
Fountain-head and source of rivers, 
D e w - cl o t h, d re am - d r ap e r y, 

And napkin spread by fays; 

Drifting meadow of the air, 

Where bloom the daisied banks and violets, 
And in whose fenny labyrinth 
The bittern booms and heron wades; 

Spirit of lakes, and seas, and rivers,— 

Bear only perfumes and the scent 
Of healing herbs to just men’s fields. 










































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


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42 


Twill be All the 


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S0WILL be all the same in a hundred years* 

^ What a spell-word to conjure up smiles and tears! 

O! how oft do I muse ’mid the thoughtless and gay, 
p.W On the marvelous truth that these words convey! 

And can it be so, must the valiant and free 
Have their tenure of life on this frail decree? 

Are the trophies they’ve reared, and the glories they’ve won, 
Only castles of frost-work, confronting the sun! 

And must all that’s as joyous and brilliant to view 
As a Mid-summer dream, be as perishing, too? 

A Then have pity, ye proud ones—be gentle, ye great! 

O remember how merry becometh your state; 

For the rust that consumeth the sword of the brave 
Is eating the chain of the manacled slave, 

And the conqueror’s frowns, and his victim’s tears 
Will be all the same in a hundred years! 


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’Twill be all the same in a hundred years! 

What a spell-word to conjure up smiles and tears! 

How dark are your fortunes, ye sons of the soil, 

Whose heir-loom is sorrow, whose birthright is toil! 
Yet envy not those who have glory and gold, 

By the sweat of the poor, and the blood of the bold; 
For ’tis coming, howe’er they may flaunt in their pride, 
The day when they’ll molder to dust by your side. 

Death uniteth the children of toil and sloth, 

And the democrat reptiles carouse upon both; 

For time as he speeds on his viewless wings, 

Disenables and withers all earthly things; 

And the minister’s pipe, and the scholar’s book, 

And the Emperor’s crown, and the Cossack’s spears 
Will be dust alike in a hundred years! 











































-O- 


AND THE WISE. 


*> 8 *— 01 
43 


’Twill be all the same in a hundred years! 

O most magical fountain of smiles and tears! 


To think that your hopes, like flowers of June, 
Which we love so much, should be lost so soon! 
Then what meaneth the chase after phantom joys? 
Or the breaking of human hearts for toys? 

Or the veteran’s pride in his crafty schemes! 

Or “the passions of youth for its darling dreams” ? 
Or the aiming at ends that we never can span? 

Or the deadly aversion of man for man? 

What availeth it all? O ye sages say? 

Or the miser’s joy in his brilliant clay? 

Or the lover’s seal for his matchless prize— 

The enchanting maid, with the starry eyes? 

Or the feverish conflicts of hopes and fears, 

If ’tis all the same in a hundred years? 


Ah! ’tis not the same in a hundred years, 

How clear soever the case appears; 

For know ye not that beyond the grave, 

Far, far beyond where the cedars wave 
On the Syrian mountains, or where the stars 
Come glittering forth in their golden cars, 

There bloometh a land of perennial bliss 
Where we smile to think of the tears in this! 
And the pilgiim reaching that radiant shore, 
Has thought of death in his heart no more, 

But layeth his staff and sandals down, 

For the victor’s palm and the monarch’s crown, 
And the mother meets, in that tranquil sphere, 
The delightful child she has wept for here; 

And we quaff off the same immortal cup, 

While the orphan smiles and the slave looks up! 
So be glad, my heart, and forget thy tears, 

For ’tis not the same in a hundred years! 












44 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




Wings! wings! 

To leave the level of earthly things; 

The dust of the under-world; the din 
Of law and logic; the ghost of sin; 

The eyes of prisoners at the grate; 

The voice of beggars beside the gate; 

The sense of something averse to good— 
A warped intention—a vicious mood 
In the face of nature; a sense more keen 
Of lapse, and breakage, and death within; 
The self that stifles, and clings, and stings; 
Wings! wings! 

Wings! wings! 

To touch the hem of the veil that swings, 
As moved by the breath of God, between 
The world of sense and the world unseen; 
To swoon where the mystic folds divide, 
And wake, a child, on the other side; 

To wake and wonder if it be so, 

And weep for joy at the loss of woe; 

To know the seeker is sought and found; 
To find Love’s being, but not his bound; 

O for the living that dying brings! 

Wings! wings! 











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AND THE WISE. 




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BY I.. N. CHAPIN. 


|Ej^||AST is the distance that divides 
^ The heart that waits from the heart that rides; 

But love is swift, and love is wise, 

And pain is sharp, when ’tis love that dies;— 

^ Room for the flying train, make way! 

Love rides in sublimest state to-day. 

Stand firm at your post, brave engineer, 



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f Let your heart be strong, and your eye be clear, 
Pull wide the throttle, and hold your breath, 

’Tis a headlong: ride and race with death. 

On and on, with projectile force, 

The short, light train holds its sharp, swift course; 
But that cry of the river back to the sea 
Rings in her ears incessantly. 

The wheat fields bending beneath the sky, 

On the Jersey farms go hurrying by; 

The curves are rounded, one by one, 

When, the first long stage of the journey done, 

The flying train in its passage there 
Spurns the sluggish course of the Delaware. 

The ponderous engine rocks and reels, 

And clutches the track with its driving wheels; 
Deeper and deeper its long arms plunge, 

To pluck the power from exhaustless lungs, 

While its plumes wave dark in the bright sunlight, 
And it screams like an eagle in its flight, 

Rousing; the echoes that slumbering hide 
In the fretted rocks by the Schuylkill’s side. 


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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, I 


Still on like a planet, rolls the train, 

’Tis a guest that no city can detain; T 

And time is too precious by far to be lost, 

When even one river remains to be crossed. 

From fields and woods, as the train goes by, 

The affri ghted birds to their covert fly, 

As if it some mad assassin might be 

That would shoot them down in their liberty: 

For one of their number, they have heard, 

(Ah, how many hearts by the news were stirred), 

Is fluttering home with a ruffled breast, 

To its wounded mate in a blood-red nest. 

But see! the third long stage of the journey done, 

And the broad Susquehanna rolls out in the sun. 


One little accident, only one, 

In the long hard ride since the race begun; 
When something snaps with the terrible strain; 
But quick hands are ready, and once again, 

The hot steam thunders against its dome,— 
Courage, brave heart, you are almost home! 
How the engine lunges with scream and hiss, 

O God, was there ever such ride as this! 

But each drum-beat on that blackened dome, 

Is a shout to the river, I come! I come! 

And short now the distance that divides 
The heart that waits from the heart that rides, 
For lo! as the day goes out with the tide, 

The train rolls down by Potomac’s side. 


O Love is swift, and Love is wise, 

And pain is sharp when ’tis love that dies. 
Faint was the prospect that death would delay 
With the best physician of all away; 

While loyal attendants are waiting around 


<*> 

























































































AND THE WISE. 




-H* 



Hers the balsamic love that shall heal his wound, 
And for the strong soul that was willing to take 
The one little chance that so many can make, 

The love that such marvelous skill can outpour 
Shall add to that one chance thousands more. 

The old earth rocks on its luminous way; 

The passions and factions of men decay, 

And this white bud reblooms on the summit of time, 
That hate is hateful, and love sublime. 

Room for the truth to be everywhere sown— 

That a nation’s strong love is a ruler’s safe throne. 





Soldier Rest! Thy Warfare O'er, 


BY SIR WALTER SCOTT. 


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fl OLDIER rest! thy warfare o’er, 

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; 
tjp cDream of battled fields no more, 

Days of danger, nights of waking. 

M In our isle’s enchanted hall, 

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Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, 
Fairy strains of music fall, 

Every sense in slumber dewing. 

Soldier rest! thy warfare o’er, 

Dream of fighting fields no more; 

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, 
Morn of toil, nor night of waking. 


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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 

No rude sound shall reach thine ear, 
Armor’s clang, or war-steed champing, 
Trump nor pibroch summon here 

Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. 
Yet the lark’s shrill fife may come 
At the daybreak from the fallow, 

And the bittern sound his drum, 

Booming from the sedgy shallow. 

Ruder sounds shall none be near, 

Guards nor warders challenge here; 

Here’s no war-steed’s neigh and champing, 
Shouting clans, or squadrons stamping. 

Huntsman, rest, thy chase is done, 

While our slumb’rous spells assail ye, 
Dream not, with the rising sun, 

Bugles here shall sound reveille. 

Sleep! the deer is in his den; 

Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying; 
Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen 
How thy gallant steed lay dying. 
Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done; 

Think not of the rising sun, 

For, at dawning to assail ye, 

Here no bugles sound reveille. 


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The North to the South « 


BY ARTHUR DYER, OF NEW YORK. 







ITH muffled roar the white waves fall 

On miles of yellow sand, ^ 

And gently do the sweet winds blow 
Across the flow’ry land, 

Where, blessed by mild and mellow moons, 







































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AND rPHE WISE. 


49 


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Beneath soft azure skies, 

And wooed by fervid, sultry noons, 

The lovely South-land lies. 

Chorus— The lovely South-land lies, 

The lovely South-land lies, 

And wooed by fervid, sultry noons, 
The lovely South-land lies. 

If colder is our. Northern clime, 

Our hearts are warm and true; 

Since we are brethren of the quill, 

What matters gray or blue? 

So, drifted past the storm of war 
To isles of peaceful calm, 

The lakes give greeting to the sea, 

The pine unto the palm. 

Chorus— The pine unto the palm, 

The pine unto the palm, 

The lakes give greeting to the sea, 

«• 

The pine unto the palm. 

Though states may sever, parties strive 
And wide our difference be, 

Yet in the kingdom of the mind 
Opinion must be free; 

And, therefore, while the world goes round, 

In ever}'’ season’s stress, 

We’ll cherish always, firm and strong, 

The union of the press. 

Chorus— The union of the press, 

The union of the press, 

We’ll cherish always, firm and strong, 
The union of the press. 




Sung- to the tune of “Auld Lang Syne” at the recent Editorial Con¬ 
vention. 




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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


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T. UATMARIWE 


BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 


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'r^j LOW through the solemn air, in silence sailing, 
Borne by mysterious angels strong and fair, 

She sleeps at last, blest dreams her eyelids veiling, 
fgf Above this weary world of strife and care. 


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Lo, how she passeth! dreamy, slow, and calm: 

Scarce wave those broad white wings, so silvery bright; 
Those cloudy robes, in star-emblazoned folding, 

Sweep mistily athwart the evening light. 

Far, far below, the dim, forsaken earth, 

The foes that threaten, or the friends that weep; 

Past, like a dream, the torture and the pain: 

For so he giveth his beloved sleep. 


The restless bosom of the surging ocean 

Gives back the image as the clouds float o’er, 
Hushing in glassy awe his troubled motion; 

For one blest moment he complains no more. 


Like the transparent golden floor of heaven, 

His charmed waters lie as in a dream, 

And glistening wings, and starry robes unfolding, 
And serious angel eyes far downward gleam. 




<*> 

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* According'to this legend, Catherine was a noble maiden of Alexandria, dis¬ 
tinguished alike by birth, riches, beauty, and the rarest gifts of genius and learn¬ 
ing. In the flower of her youth she consecrated herself to the service of her 
Redeemer, and cheerfully suffered for His sake the loss of wealth, friends, and the 
esteem of the world. Banishment, imprisonment, and torture were in vain tried, to 
shake the constancy of her faith; at last she was bound upon the torturing-wheel 
for a cruel death. But the angels descended, so says the story, rent the wheel, and 
bore her away through the air, far over the sea, to Mount Sinai, where her body 
was left to repose, and her soul ascended with them to heaven. 


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AND THE WISE. 


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O restless sea! thou seemest all enchanted 
By that sweet vision of celestial rest; 

Where are the winds and tides thy peace that haunted— 
So still thou seemest, so glorified and blest! 

Ah, sea! to-morrow, that sweet scene forgotten, 

Dark tides and tempests shall thy bosom rear; 

And thy complaining waves, with restless motion, 

Shall toss their hands in their old wild despair. 

So o’er our hearts sometimes the sweet, sad story 

Of suffering saints borne homeward crowned and blest, 

Shines down in stillness with a tender glory, 

And makes a mirror there of breathless rest. 

For not alone in those old Eastern regions 

Are Christ’s beloved ones tried by cross and chain; 

In many a house are his elect ones hidden, 

His martyrs suffering in their patient pain. 

The rack, the cross, life’s weary wrench of woe, 

The world sees not, as slow, from day to day, 

In calm, unspoken patience, sadly still, 

The loving spirit bleeds itself away. 

But there are hours when, from the heavens unfolding, 
Come down the angels with the glad release; 

And we look upward, to behold in glory 

Our suffering loved ones borne away to peace. 

Ah, brief the calm! The restless wave of feeling 
Rises again when the bright cloud sweeps by, 

And our unrestful souls reflect no longer 
That tender vision of the upper sky. 

Espoused Lord of the pure saints in glory, 

To whom all‘faithful souls affianced are, 









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■>-5—■*§•—°’ 


! 


THE BEAUTIFUL. THE WONDERFUL, 




Breathe down thy peace into our restless spirits, 
And make a lasting, heavenly vision there. 

So the bright gates no more on us shall close; 

No more the cloud of angels fade away; 

And we shall walk, amid life’s weary strife, 

In the calm light of thine eternal day. 


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d here they grew and there they stood 
Together, two and two, 

And some had hearts like a drop of blood, 
And some like a drop of dew; 

Down by the mill, down by the mill, 
Through all the summer hours, 

There they swung and there they swayed, 
Like spots of sunshine over the shade; 

And over the waters, cold and still, 

My beautiful, beautiful flowers! 


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AND THE WISE. 


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And some had slippers of yellow gold, 

And some had caps of snow, 

And some their heads held high and bold, 
And some their heads held low; 

And so they stood up side by side, 

Meek and mournful and modest-eyed, 
Through all the summer hours; 

Down in the meadow, gay and green, 
Like bridesmaids standing round their 
queen, 

My beautiful, beautiful flowers! 

O, to see them bloom and blush, 

Was the sweetest shew of shows! 
The daisy under the lilac bush, 

And the violet by the rose! 

Down by the mill, down by the mill, 
Through all the summer hours, 

Some so high and some so low, 

But all as fair as fair can grow, 

Down by the water, bright and still, 
My beautiful, beautiful flowers! 

O, the little maid of the mill, 

That dazzles and deceives, 

With a head as bright as the daffodil, 
And a hand like the lily-leaves, 

She it is that makes them grow 
Through all the summer hours; 

They with cloaks of speckled dyes, 

And they with hoods about their eyes, 

Meek and modest, and high and low; 

She can tell, if tell she will, 

Why they dazzle down by the mill, 

My beautiful, beautiful flowers! 



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♦ 


64 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 



|READ warder of an ancient land, 

Thou wondrous form of changeless stone, 
Reigning o’er leagues of shifting sand, 
Unnumbered ages for thy throne; 


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Pigmies, we gaze and pass away— 
I now, Cambyses, yesterday 


Dim mem’ries of forgotten things 

Haunt those large eyes; the Shepherd chiefs, 
The victor’s crown—the pride of kings, 




E’en meaner mortals’ lesser griefs: 
Canst thou recall old Menes’ face? 
Hast bowed before Rhodope’s grace? 




<i> 



Those grand lack-lustre eyes perchance 

Saw Helen, like a goddess move; 

And Alexander’s fateful trance 

That ruined Ilion for her love; 

Didst hear stern Proteus quick dismiss 

The guest who marred a guest-friend’s bliss? (L 

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AND JFHE WISE. 



Vain—worse than vain—no word comes thro’ 
The lips’ cold portals. Thou hast seen 
The conq’ring Mede, the crafty Jew, 

Greek sages, Antony’s dark queen: 

Is’t to their ghosts in yon soft haze 
Thou turnst that everlasting gaze? 



AtAtAtA 


Great Horus, answer—art thou mute? 

Hast no responsive chords for eve, 
Like Morn’s old vot’ry—I salute 

Thine awful silence. Let me weave 
My puny fancies, knowing well 
Man may not learn the Inscrutable. 


What though thy buried secret sleeps 
In far Ogygian aeone? Still 
The daily sunshine o’er thee creeps, 
And so for unknown a°fes will: 

And men shall view thy massive brow, 
And marvel at its calm as now. 

Eve’s rich glow lingers round thy head, 
And lights thy melancholy face, 








































A 


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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 



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& & 4LSL -aL~^/ M. ij v 


BY SUSAN COOLIDGK. 


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^ 1( §o -§»— - 

l F I were told that I must die to-morrow, 


That the next sun 


^s?*) Which sinks should bear me past all fear and sorrow 


<§J 


For any one, 

A All the fight fought, all the short journey through, 

What should I do? 


JAL 




n 




* 


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I do not think that I should shrink or falter, 

But just go on, 

Doing my work, nor change nor seek to alter 

Aught that is gone; 

But rise and move, and love and smile, and pray, 

For one more day. 

And, lying down at night for a last sleeping, 

Say in that ear 

Which hearkens ever: “Lord, within thy keeping 

How should I fear? 

And when to-morrow brings thee nearer still, 

Do thou thy will.” 

I might not sleep for aye; but peaceful, tender, 

My soul would lie 

All the night long; and when the morning splendor 

Flushed o’er the sky, 

I think that I could smile—could calmly sav, 

“ It is his day.” 

But if a wondrous hand from the blue yonder 

Held out a scroll, 


o— 

































AND THE WISE. 




On which my life was writ, and I with wonder 

Beheld unroll 

To a long century’s end its mystic clue, 

What should I do? 


What could I do, O blessed Guide and Master, 

Other than this; 

Still to go on as now, not slower, faster, 

Nor fear to miss 

The road, although so very long it be. 

Which led by thee? 



Step after step, feeling thee close beside me, 

Although unseen, 

Through thorns, through {lowers, whether the tempest 

hide thee, 

Or heavens serene, 

Assured thy faithfulness cannot betray, 

Thy love decay. 


I may not know; my God, no hand revealeth 

Thy counsels wise; 

Along the path a deepening shadow stealeth; 

No voice replies 

To all my questioning thought, the time to tell; 

And it is well! 


Let me keep on, abiding and unfearing 

Thy will always, 

Through a long century’s ripening fruition 

Or a short day’s; 

Thou canst not come too soon; and I can wait 

If thou come late. 





























THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 



3 —it 




<r> 


OP ALL THE 


BY GERALD MASSEY. 



t 


[ALL in our marriage garden 

mm) . . & & 

]jW% Grew, smiling up to God, 

> fe : “ A bonnier flower than ever 

Suckt the green warmth of the sod. 

ejjk O beautiful unfathomably 

^ Its little life unfurled ; 

Life’s crown of sweetness was our wee 
White Rose of all the world. 

From out a gracious bosom, 

Our bud of beauty grew; 

It fed on smiles for sunshine 
And tears for daintier dew. 

Aye nestling warm and tenderly, 

Our leaves of love were curled 

So close and close about our wee 
White Rose of all the world. 

Two flowers of beauteous crimson 
Grew with our Rose of light; 

Still kept the sweet heaven-grafted slip 
Her whiteness saintly white. 

I’ the wind of life they danced with glee, 
And reddened as they whirled; 

While white and wondrous grew our wee 
White Rose of all the world. 

With mystical faint fragrance, 

Our house of life she filled 














































Revealed each hour some fairy tower, 
Where winged hopes might build. 


We saw—though none like us might see— 
Such precious promise pearled 
Upon the petals of our wee 
White Rose of all the world. 



But evermore the halo 

Of Angel-light increased; 

Like the mystery of moonlight, 

That folds some fairy feet. 

Snow-white, snow-soft, snow-silently, 

Our darling bud up-curled, 

And dropt i’ the grave—God’s lap—our wee 
White Rose of all the world. 





Our Rose was but in blossom; 

Our life was but in spring; 

When down the solemn midnight 
We heard the Spirits sing: 

“ Another bud of infancy, 

With holy dews impearled j ’" 1 

And in their hands they bore our wee 
White Rose of all the world. 

You scarce could think so small a thing 
Could leave a loss so large; 

Her little light such shadow fling, 
From dawn to sunset’s marge. 

In other springs our life may be 
In banner bloom unfurled; 

But never, never, match our wee 
White Rose of all the world. 




























% 



•► 5 - 


THB BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 





There’s a song in the air! 

There’s a star in the skv! 

There’s a mother’s deep prayer, 

And a baby’s low cry! 

And the star rains its fire while the Beautiful sing, 
For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a King! 


There’s a tumult of joy 
O’er the wonderful birth, 

For the Virgin’s sweet boy 

Is the Lord of the earth! 

Aye! the star rains its fire and the Beautiful sing, 
For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a King. 

in. 

In the light of that Star 
Lie the ages impearled; 

And that song from afar 
Has swept over the world. 

Every heart is aflame, and the Beautiful sing, 

In the homes of the nations that Jesus is King. 

IV. 


We rejoice in the light 
And we echo the song 
That comes down through the night 

O o 

From the heavenly throng. 

Aye! we shout to the lovely Evangel they bring, 
And we greet in his cradle our Saviour and King. 



























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AND fFHE WISE. 


61 


f 



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TO THE 


LOOKING EASTWARD AT DAWN. 

^ —*~ i >- 

HAT sunken splendor in the Eastern skies 
yjj Seest thou, O Watcher, from thy lifted 
place ? 

j^Thine Q ld Atlantic d ream is in thine eyes, 

But the new Western morning on thy face. 


Beholdest thou, in re-apparent light, 

Thy lost Republics? They were visions, fled. 
Their ghosts in ruin’d cities walk by night— 

It is no resurrection of their dead. 

But, look, behind thee, where in sunshine lie, 

£ Thy boundless fields of harvest in the West, 
Whose savage garments from thy shoulders fly, 
Whose eagle clings in sunrise to thy crest! 




of God grind s ; 0 
exceeding small. " ’ J ' c / 
patience He stand’s 
actness grinds H e 



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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 











9 —<$>— 


- 8 — 


|OCKABY baby, thy cradle is green; 
d Father’s a nobleman, mother’s a queen.” 
Rockaby, lullaby, all the day long, 

GT/$\d Down to the land of the lullaby song. 
Babyland never again will be thine, 

<•> Land of all mystery, holy, divine— 
Motherland, Otherland, 
Wonderland, Underland, 

Land of a time ne’er again to be seen; 

Flowerland, Bowerland, 

Airy land, Fairyland, 

Rockaby baby, thy cradle is green. 



Rockaby baby, thy mother will keep 
Gentle watch over thy azure-eyed sleep; 
Baby can’t feel what the mother heart knows 
Throbbing its fear o’er your quiet repose. 
Mother heart knows how baby must fight 
Wearily on through the fast-coming night; 
Battle unending, 

Honor defending, 

Baby must wage with the powers unseen 
Sleep now, oh baby dear! 

God and thy mother near! 
Rockaby baby, thy cradle is green. 


Rockaby baby, the days will grow long; 

Silent the voice of thy mother’s love-song; 
Bowed with sore burdens the man-life must own 
Sorrows that baby must bear all alone. 
Thoughts will come soon, and with reason comes 
pain— 




































“ROCKABY. BABY. THY CRADLE IS GREEN 


99 














































































































































































































- 



















AND THE WISE. 


- 0 '~7* 

Q> 3 


Sorrowland, Morrowland, 
Drearyland, Weary land, 
Baby and Heavenland lying between; 

Smile, then, in Motherland, 
Dream in the Otherland— 
Rockaby baby, thy cradle is green. 




JP 


-- 


-€•• 0 - 


BY ALFRED TENNYSON. 




H^ENCEFORTH thou hast a helper, me, that know 
Ifl The woman’s cause is man’s: they rise and sink 
1 sSAg Together, dwarfed or god-like, bond or free: 
l^fiJjFor she that out of Lethe scales with man 
Y The shining steeps of nature, shares with man 

His nights, his days, moves with him to one goal, 
Stays all the fair young planet in her hands. 

f lf she be small, slight-natured, miserable, 

How shall men grow? but work no more alone; 
Our place is much: as far as in us lies 
We two will serve them both in aiding: her— 

Will clear away the parasitic forms 
That seem to keep her up, but drag her down— 
Will leave her space to burgeon out of all 
Within her—let her make herself her own 
To give or keep, to live and learn, and be 
All that not harms distinctive womanhood. 

For woman is not undeveloped man, 

But diverse; could we make her as the man, 

Sweet love were slain: his dearest bond is this, 

Not like to like, but like in difference: 

Yet in the long years liker must they grow; 

The man be more of woman, she of man; 

He gain in sweetness and in moral height, 

Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world; 


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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


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She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care. 
Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind; 

Till at the last she set herself to man, 

Like perfect music unto noble words; 

And so these twain, upon the skirts of Time, 

Sit side by side, full-summed in all their powers, 
Dispensing harvest, sowing the to-be, 
Self-reverent each, and reverencing each, 
Distinct in individualities, 

But like each other even as those who love. 
Then comes the statelier Eden back to men: 
Then reign the world’s great bridals, chaste and 
calm: 

Then springs the crowning race of humankind, 
May these things be. 






THE ANGEL VISION 

jjf^HISEL in hand stood a sculptor boy, 

WVi With his marble block before him, 

And his face lit up with a smile of joy 
an angel dream passed o’er him. 

He carved it then on the yielding stone, 

With many a sharp incision, 

[1 I] With heaven’s own light the sculptor shone 
Bill] He had caught the angel vision.” 


ft 


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“ Sculptors of life are we as we stand 
With our souls uncarved before us, 
Waiting the hour when, at God’s command, 
Our life’s dream shall pass o’er us, 

If we carve it then on the yielding stone 
With many a sharp incision, 

Its heavenly beauty shall be our own, 

Our lives that angel vision.” 




,o 


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<> 


AND THE WISE. 




THE OLD SURPRISE . 


BY EUNICE E. COMSTOCK. 





} 



OW what hath entered my loved woods, 

And touched their green with sudden change? 

What is this last of nature’s moods 

That makes the roadside look so strange? 

Who blanched my thistle’s blushing face, 

And gave the winds her silver hair? 

Set golden-rod within her place, 

And scattered asters eveiywhere? 

Who splashed with red the sumach hedge,— 

The sassafras with purple stain; 

Gave ivy leaves a ruby edge, 

And painted all their stems again? 

Lo! the change reaches high and wide, 

Hath toned the sky to softer blue; 

Hath crept along the river-side, 

And trod the valleys through and through; 

4 

Discolored every hazel copse, 

And stricken all the pasture lands; 

Flung veils across the mountain tops, 

And bound their feet with yellow bands. 


Is, then, September come so soon? 

Full time doth summer ne’er abide? 
While yet it seems but summer’s noon, 
We’re floating down the 
autumn tide. 



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66 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 





BY SUSAN COOLIDGE. 


|UT of the bosom of the sea, 


From dim, rich coasts eye may not see 
$ By vast and urging forces blent, 

Y Untired, untiring and unspent, 

The glad waves speed them, one by one; 

And, goal attained and errand done, 

They lap the sands and softly lave— 

Wave after wave, wave after wave. 


•> 



As stirred by longing for repose, 
Higher and higher each wave goes, 
Striving to clasp with foam-white hands 
The yielding and eluding sands: 

And still the sea, relentless, grim, 

Calls his wild truants back to him; 
Recalls the liberty he gave 
Wave after wave, wave after wave. 

All sad at heart and desolate 
They heed the call; they bow to fate; 
And outward swept, a baffled train, 
Each feels his effort was in vain: 

But fed by impulse lent by each 
The gradual tide upon the beach 
Rises to full, and thunders brave, 

Wave after wave, wave after wave. 

Ah, tired, discouraged heart and head. 
Look up, and be thou comforted! 

Thy puny effort may seem vain, 



































AND lit HE WISE. 






Wasted thy toil, and naught thy pain, 

Thy brief sun quench itself in shade, 

Thy worthiest strength be weakness made, 
Caught up in one great whelming grave, 
Wave after wave, wave after wave. 

Yet still, though baffled and denied, 

Thy spended strength has swelled the tide. 
A feather’s weight where oceans roll— 

One atom in a mighty whole— 

God’s hand uncounted agencies 
Marshals and notes and counts as his. 

His threads to bind, his sands to save, 

His tides to build, wave after wave. 





os-i!r2o 




FRANCIS W. BOURDILLON. 


The night has a thousand eyes, 

The day but one; 

r et the light of the bright world dies 
With the dying sun. 

The mind has a thousand eyes, 

And the heart but one; 
fet the light of a whole life dies 
When its love is done. 


m 




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68 


JUHE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


BY BRET HARTE 


^ j'BOVE the pines the moon was slowly drifting, 

The river sang below; 

^ 5 ^ The dim Sierras, far beyond, uplifting 
o Thei r minarets of snow. 

The roaring camp-fire, with rude humor, painted 
The ruddy tints of health 

On haggard face and form that drooped and fainted 
In the fierce race for wealth; 

Till one arose, and from his pack’s scant treasure 
A hoarded volume drew, 

And cards were dropped from hands of listless leisure, 
To hear the tale anew; 

And then, while round them shadows gathered faster, 
And as the firelight fell, 

He read aloud the book wherein the Master 
Had writ of “ Little Nell.” 

Perhaps ’twas boyish fancy,—for the reader 
Was youngest of them all,— 

But, as he read, from clustering pine and cedar 
A silence seemed to fall; 

The fir-trees, gathering closer in the shadows, 

Listened in every spray, 

While the whole camp, with “Nell” on English meadows, 
Wandered, and lost their way. 

And so in mountain solitudes—o’ertaken 
As by some spell divine— 

Their cares dropped from them like the needles shaken 
From out the gusty pine. 
























% 






A 




AND TCHE WISE. 


;c—a—5-,* 


BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 


c—- 

heard or seemed to hear, the chiding Sea 
Say, Pilgrim, why so late and slow to come? 
°^jl|j| Am I not always here, thy Summer home? 

Is not my voice thy music, morn and eve? 
My breath thy healthful climate in the heats, 
My touch thy antidote, my bay thy bath? 

Was ever building like my terraces? 

Was ever couch magnificent as mine? 

Lie on the warm rock-ledges, and there learn 
A little lot suffices like a town. 

I make your sculptured architecture vain, 
Vain beside mine. I drive my wedges home, 
And carve the coastwise mountain into caves. 
Lo! here is Rome, and Nineveh, and Thebes, 
Karnak, and Pyramid, and Giant’s Stairs, 
Half-piled or prostrate; and my newest slab 
Older than all thy race. 


\\l 


69 


Lost is that camp, and wasted all its fire: 

And he who wrought that spell?— 

A.h, towering pine and stately Kentish spire, 

Ye have one tale to tell! 

Lost is that camp! but let its fragrant story 
Blend with the breath that thrills 
With hop-vines’ incense all the pensive glory 
That fills the Kentish hills. 

And on that grave where English oak and holly 
And laurel wreaths entwine, 

Deem it not all a too presumptuous folly,— 

This spray of Western pine! 


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s>—» 











































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


70 




Behold the sea, 

The opaline, the plentiful and strong. 

Yet beautiful as is the rose in June, 

Fresh as the trickling rainbow of July ; 

Sea full of food, the nourisher of kinds, 

Purger of earth, and medicine of men; 

Creating a sweet climate by my breath, 

Washing out harms and griefs from memory, 

And, in my mathematic ebb and flow, 

Giving a hint of that which changes not. 

Rich are the sea-gods: who gives gifts but they? 
They grope the sea for pearls, but more than pearls: 
They pluck Force thence, and give it to the wise, 
For every wave is wealth to Dasdalus; 

Wealth to the cunning artist who can work 



This matchless strength. Where shall we find, O waves! 
A load your Atlas shoulders cannot lift? 


I, with my hammer pounding evermore 
The rocky coast, smite Andes into dust, 

Strewing my bed, and, in another age, 

Rebuild a continent of better men. 

Then I unbar the doors; my paths lead out 

The exodus of nations; I disperse 

Men to all shores that front the hoary main. 

I too, have arts and sorceries; 

Illusion dwells forever with the wave. 

I know what spells are made. Leave me to deal 
With credulous and imaginative man; 

For, though he scoop my water in his palm, 

A few rods off he deems it gems and clouds. 
Planting strange fruits and sunshine on the shore, 
I make some coast alluring, some lone isle, 

To distant men, who must go there or die. 





















His truth is marching on. 


I have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling 
camps; 

They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and 
damps; 

I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps : 
His day is marching on. 


I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel: 
“As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall 
deal; 

Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, 
Since God is marching on.” 


He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat; 
He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment-seat: 
O be swift, my soul, to answer him! be jubilant, my feet! 

* . Our God is marching on. 


In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, 
With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me; 
As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, 
While God is marching on. 


— 






















Z2 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WOHDEI^PUIi, 




’$ TOMB. 


BY EMMA LAZARUS. 




.20 





PLIFT the ponderous, golden mask of death, 

And let the sun shine on him as it did 
\ How many thousand years agone! Beneath 
This worm-defying, uncorrupted lid, 

Behold the young, heroic face, round-eyed, 

Of one who in his full-flowered manhood died; 

Of nobler frame than creatures of to-day, 

j ' 

Swathed in fine linen cerecloths fold on fold. 

With carven weapons wrought of bronze and gold, 
Accoutred like a warrior for the fray. 


We gaze in awe at these huge modeled limbs, 
Shrunk in death’s narrow house, but hinting yet 
Their ancient majesty; these sightless rims 
Whose living eyes the eyes of Helen met; 

The speechless lips that ah! what tales might tell 
Of the earth’s morning-tide when gods did dwell 
Amidst a generous-fashioned, god-like race, 

Who dwarf our puny semblance, and who won 
The secret soul of Beauty for their own, 

While all our art but crudely apes their grace. 


We gather all the precious relics up, 

The golden buttons chased with wondrous craft, 

The sculptured trinkets and the crystal cup, 

The sheathed, bronze sword, the knife with brazen haft. 
Fain would we wrest with curious eyes from these 
Unnumbered long-forgotten histories, 

The deeds heroic of this mighty man, 

On whom once more the living daylight beams, 

50 ——*---—o 5 
























AND THE WISE. 


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7S 




To shame our littleness, to mock our dreams, 

And the abyss of centuries to span. 

Yet, could we rouse him from his blind repose, 

How might we meet his searching questionings, 

Concerning all the follies, wrongs and woes, 

Since his great day whom men called King of 
Kings, 

Victorious Agamemnon? How might we 
Those large, clear eyes confront, which scornfully 
Would view us as a poor, degenerate race, 
Base-souled, and mean-proportioned? What reply 
Give to the beauty-loving Greek’s heart-cry, 
Seeking his ancient gods in vacant space. 


What should he find within a world grown cold, 
Save doubt and trouble? To his sunny creed 
A thousand gloomy, warring sects succeed. 

How of the Prince of Peace might he be told, 
When over half the world the war-cloud lowers? 

H ow would he mock these faltering hopes of ours, 
Who knows the secret now of death and fate! 
Humbly we gaze upon the colossal frame, 

And mutely we accept the mortal shame, 

Of men degraded from a high estate. 





mmmmm 


S CX 




<i> 








































THE BEAUTIFUL/, E WONDERFUL, 




BY L. N. CHAPIN. 


BY L. N. CHAPIN. 


are we, 

Sr Dwelling in Obscurity, 
gw Where no sunlight ever rests, 



JpHILDREN of the night 




There we build our lonely 


nests; 


S When the world is light as day, 
Hidden from the world we stay; 


When the world is all asleep 


j Darkness over land and deep, 

Then upon some ruined wall, 
Ancient kirk or pine-tree tall, 

All the lonely night time through 
We perch, and crone, “ T’whit-t-whoo.” 

Far above the Nile of time 
Runs the record of our prime. 

Ere the Sphinx his riddles told, 

Ere the pyramids were old, 

Egypt, ere a queen hadst thou, 

We were then as old as now. 

Countless ages are our own; 

Crumbled empires are our throne, 

In league with Dust, and Change, and Fate, 
The world in ruins we await. 

Willie, waking in the night, 

Hears that lone sound with affri ght 
Deep within the darksome wood, 


That cry so little understood, 

“ T’whit-t’whoo, t’whit-t’whoo! 

You little boys, who cares for you?” 
Hides his head as well he may, 

To keep the dreadful sound away. 







































BIRD SONG 


l nen aoout ms throne we sing, r a-. %- m 

Hitting by on joyful wing. jjjyr. 

►Ve are foes of every wrong, ' -/ jM. 

\ _Conquering by the power of BS/fmrf 

v song; 

^ We are blossoms ot the air, 

Shedding fragrance everywhere 
<V Children’s angels all are we, 
k 4-- Flooding- life with melody. 

Oh, the Sphinx is old and wise, 

. Dust is in his drowsy eyes, 4 

lli jji But we’ve seen the 

■'lif wmg£ 5 . nations creep , 

: '• And we’ve sung 1 ' w - D' 1 _^ 

^ Ik them all to sleep. 

M|»^^When the world has gone to rest, 

: Then upon the downy nest, 

Where the green leaf-curtains swin 


Baby, in his own bird’s-nest, 

Sleeps, and dreams, and takes his rest 
Mother’s love and mother’s care, 
Brood and hover everywhere. 
When the sun ascends the skies, 
Maybe he will ope his eyes. 

Sleepy boy, he ought to know. 

The birds were up an hour ago. 


"SGt —*§» 









































o-«§»"§-<« 

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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 






)RA PRO M, 




- 22 _ 


4 


i 


j 

f 


ft] SAVIOUR! in my woe 
And in my grief, 

1 breathe thy precious name, 
And find relief. 

Burdened with sin and guilt, 
By night and day— 

The Lord so great and high, 
So far away— 

I have no strength to bear 
My load to Him; 

My feet are faint and worn; 

The way is dim; 

Then in my deep despair 
•A star shines clear, 
Weaving: in silver ligfht, 

o O' 

“Jesus is near.” 

“Jesus—the Suffering Heart, 
To know and feel: 

Jesus—the Loving Heart, 

To soothe and heal: 

Jesus—Redeeming Heart, 
Open to all: 

He hears His children’s crv, 
























AND THE WISE. 


ZZ 



Their feeblest call. 

Tell Him thy sin and want, 

Thy every need: 

He at the Father’s throne 
Will intercede, 

Bridging the space between 
The Lord and thee— 

Let all thy soul be tuned 
To minstrelsy.” 

Jesus divine! Heart 
Sacred and pure! 

Saviour, with loving arms, 
Faithful and sure! 

Thou who hast known my grief, 
Passion and pain, 

Aid me to follow Thee, 

Free from all stain. 

Orphaned and lone am I, 

The world is drear; 

Evil and sin abound, 

Ever are near; 

Guard from temptation’s wile 
By night and day, 

And at the Father’s throne 
Ora pro me. 

























BY WILL CARLETON. 

Where grows the Christmas tree— 

O 


The green, deep-rooted Christmas tree? 
By what brave toil, in what rich soil, 

Can spring the blooming Christmas tree? 
Is it from prairies broad and deep, 

Where future harvests softly sleep, 

And flocks of acres, flu* and free, 

Lie level as a waveless sea? 

Or is it where a breeze-skein twines 
Between the lofty-plumaged pines? 

Or where sweet stealthy languor roves 
Among the Southland orange groves? 

Or blooms it best ’mid city homes, 

With wealth’s unnumbered spires and domes? 
Or is it where, through changeful day, 

The mountain shadows creep and play, 

And swift a gleaming sun-flood rides 
Along the tall cliff’s dappled sides? 

High grows the Christmas tree, 

The sweet, love-planted Christmas tree,— 
Where’er extends the hand of friends; 
Wherever heart-caressings be. 

o 

What bears the Christmas tree— 

The bright, rich-fruited Christmas tree? 
What gather they, expectant-gay, 














































AND THE WISE. 


79 


■S-* 


Who throng around the Christmas tree? 
Leaves picked by love-instructed art 
From off the branches of the heart; 

Fruits culled from every tree and vine 
Where zephyrs fly, and sunbeams shine. 
Whate’er can brighten to our gaze 
The trembling dawn of childhood days; 
Whate’er can feed more clear and high 
The flame of youth’s expectant eye; 
Whate’er can make more richly good 
The blood of man and womanhood, 

Or bid old age look smiling round 

o o 


At gems of earth-joy newly found; 

Whate’er can say, “ While ^strength endures, 
My life has love and help for yours.” 

Rich glows the Christmas tree, 

The heart-protected Christmas tree— 
With tokens dear that bring more near 
God’s earth-lent love to you and me. 


T 

■f 




-»■ 



stiver 

Wonderful stream - 

of Time, of tears, 

rns through ti v rhyme, 

rhythm ‘ sublime, 

sWeeP T ocean°of Tears- 

c with the oce- _ 




















80 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 





And the name of this Isle is Long-Ago, 
And we bury our treasures there; 
There are brows of beauty and bosoms 
of snow; 

There are heaps of dust—but we love 
them so! 

There are trinkets, and tresses of hair. 


There’s a magical isle up the River of 
Time, 

Where the softest of airs are playing; 
There’s a cloudless sky and a tropical 
clime, 

And a song as sweet as a vesper chime, 
And the Junes with the roses are 
staying. 

































































+ 




82 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


o 


BY EDGAR ALLAN POE. 




m 


V 


W 


© 


® 


<*> 


fT was many and many a year ago, 

In a kingdom by the sea, 

That a maiden lived whom you may know 
By the name of Annabel Lee; 

And this maiden she lived with no other thought 

O 

Than to love and be loved by me. 

I was a child, and she was a child 
In this kingdom by the sea; 

But we loved with a love that was more than love, 
I and my Annabel Lee,— 

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven 
Coveted her and me. 

And this was the reason that long ago, 

In this kingdom by the sea, 

That her high-born kinsman came, 

And bore her away from me, 

To shut her up in a sepulchre, 

In this kingdom by the sea. 

The angels, not so happy in heaven, 

Went envying her and me, 

Yes! that was the reason (as all men know) 

In this kingdom by the sea, 

That the wind came out of the cloud by night, 
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. 

But our love it was stronger by far than the love 
Of those who were older than we, 

Of many far wiser than we; 

And neither the angels in heaven above 






































o— —gs— 


AND THE WISE. 83 


Nor the demons down under the sea, 

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul 
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. 

For the moon never beams without bringing my 
dreams 

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee, 

And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes 
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. 

And so, all the night-tide I lie down by the side 
Of my darling, my darling, my life, and my bride, 
In her sepulchre there by the sea,. 

In her tomb by the sounding sea. 



GOOD PARTING ADVICE. 

[The following’ is Polonius’ advice to his sou Laertes, on his departure for France.] 


jppWHERE,—my blessing with you! 

And these few precepts in thy memory 
" JAd Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, 
Nor any unproportioned thought his act. 

<f> Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. 

The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel; 

But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 
Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware 
Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in, 

Bear't that th’ opposed may beware of thee. 

Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: 

Take each man’s censure, but reserve thy. judgment. 
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, 

But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy; 

For the apparel oft proclaims the man; 

















o-«§»—§-<< 

84 


rpHH BEAUTIFUL, ^PHE WONDERFUL, 


>>’§~~ 5 §’—° 


And they in France, of the best rank and station, 
Are most select and generous, chief in that. 
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be: 

For loan oft loses both itself and friend; 

And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. 

This above all—to thine own self be true; 

And it must follow, as the night the day, 

Thou canst not then be false to any man. 

SHAKESPEARE. 




THE PALLS OP NIAGARA. 


BY JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD. 


-ojQTvSS 0 - 


P^HE thoughts are strange that crowd into my brain, 

J While I look upward to thee. It would seem 
As if God poured thee from his hollow hand, 

And hung his bow upon thine awful front, 

And spoke in that loud voice which seemed to him 
Who dwelt in Patmos for his Saviour’s sake, 

The sound of many waters; and had bade 
The flood to chronicle the ages back, 

And notch his centuries in the eternal rocks. 


AL 


MJ 


n 


Deep calleth unto deep. And what are we, 

That hear the question of that voice sublime? 

O what are all the notes that ever rung: 

From war’s vain trumpets, by thy thundering side? 
Yea, what is all the riot man can make 
In his short life, to thy unceasing roar? 

And yet, bold babbler, what art thou to Him 
Who drowned a world, and heaped the waters far 
Above its loftiest mountains?—a light wave. 

That breaks, and whispers of its Maker’s might. 

































Q 





AND THE WISE. 


^ T 


BY JAMES HOGG. 




IR.D of the wilderness, 

Blithesome and cumberless, 

Sweet be thy matin o’er moorland 
and lea! 

Emblem of happiness, 

Blest ' is thy dwelling- 
place,— 

O to abide in the desert with 
thee! 

Wild is thy lay, and loud, 

Far in the downy cloud, 

Love gives it energy, love 
gave it birth. 

Where, on thy dewy wing, 

Where art thou journeying? 

Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. 

O’er fen and fountain sheen, 

O’er moor and mountain green, 

O’er the red streamer that heralds the day, 
Over the cloudlet dim, 

Over the rainbow’s rim, 

Musical cherub, soar, singing away! 

Then, when the gloaming comes, 
Low in the heather blooms 
^ Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be! 
Emblem of happiness, 

Blest is thy dwelling- 
place,— 

O to abide in the desert 
with thee! 














































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


-a—£ 




<?> 




88 




BY WILL M. CARLETON. 


<i> 


—°*& - 19 »°- 

pJIDE with me, Uncle Nathan? 

I don’t care if I do, 

My poor old heart’s in a hurry; I am anxious to get 
through. 

My soul outwalks my body; my legs are far from strong; 
An’ it’s mighty kind o’ you, doctor, to help the old man 
along. 

I’m some’at full o’ hustle; there’s business to be done, 
I’ve just been to the village to see my youngest son. 
You used to know him, doctor, ere he his age did get, 

An’ if I ain’t mistaken, you sometimes see him yet. 

We took him through his boyhood with never a ground for 
fears; 

But somehow he stumbled over his early manhood’s years. 
The landmarks that we showed him he seems to wander 
from, 

Though in his heart there never was a better boy than Tom. 
He was quick o’ mind and body in all he done and said; 

But all the gold he reached for it seemed to turn to lead. 

The devil of grog it caught him, an’ then he turned an’ said, 
By that which fed from off him he henceforth would be fed; 
An’ that which lived upon him should give him livin’ o’er; 
An’ so he keeps the doggery that’s next to Wilson’s store. 

But howsoe’er he wandered, I’ve al’ays so far heard, 

That he had a sense of honor, an’ never broke his word; 

An’ his mother from the good Lord, she says, has understood 
That, if he agrees to be sober, he’ll keep his promise good. 
An’ so when just this mornin’ these poor old eyes o’ mine 
Saw all the women round him, a coaxin’ him to sism. 

An’ when the widow Adams let fty a homespun prayer, 

An’ he looked kind o’ wild like, and started unaware, 

An’ glanced at her an instant, and then at his kegs o’ rum, 





































3r°—■&—§<■ 


AND THE WISE. 


8Z 


I somehow knew in a minute the turnin’-point had come; 

An’ he would be as good a man as ever yet there’s been, 

Or else let go forever, an’ sink in the sea of sin. 

An’ I knew, whatever efforts might carry him to fail, 

There was only one could God help to turn the waverin’ scale; 
And I skulked awav in a hurry —I was bound to do my 
part—- 

To get the mother, who carries the key to Thomas’ heart. 
She’s getting old an’ feeble, an’ childish in her talk; 

An’ we’ve no horse and buggy, an’ she will have to walk; 
But she would be fast to come, sir, the gracious chance to 
seize, 

If she had to crawl to Thomas upon her hands and knees. 


Crawl?—walk?—No, not if I know it! So set your mind at 
rest. 

Why, hang it! I’m Tom’s customer, an’ said to be his best! 
But if this blooded horse here will show his usual power, 
Poor Tom shall see his mother in less than half an hour. 







Y 

V 


e) € '-* *■ - ' v • 

'1P/HERE was an old woman who alwavs was tired, 

mm ici ... 


She lived in a house where no help was hired; 

^ Her last words on earth were: “ Dear friends, I am going 
Where sweeping ain’t done, nor churning, nor sewing; 
And everything there will be just to my wishes, 

For where they don’t eat there’s no washing of dishes; 

And though there the anthems are constantly ringing, 

I, having no voice, will get rid of the singing. 

Don’t mourn for me now, and don’t mourn for me never, 

For I’m going to do nothing, for ever and ever.” 


6 



















-H* 


•>-§—«§*—° ? 


SS JTHB BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 



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olfewaJ® -i- ?Tc iTs (»T« 



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a 


The mossy marbles rest 
On the lips that he has pressed 
In their bloom, 

And the names he loved to hear 





-AT--- 

THE LAST LEAP. 

BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 

saw him once before, 

As he passed by the door; 

And again 
The pavement-stones resound 
As he totters o’er the ground 
With his cane. 

They say that in his prime, 

Ere the pruning-knife of Time 
Cut him down, 

Not a better man was found 
By the crier on his round 
Through the town. 

But now he walks the streets, 
\nd he looks at all he meets 
So forlorn; 

And he shakes his feeble head, 
That it seems as if he said, 

They are gone.” 


• '' v »t» «Jr ' 1 / 

ile file ■die' 



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I 'k ^ *1^ "«1^ J* 

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AND THE WISE. 


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Have been carved for many a year 
On the tomb. 

My grandmamma has said— 

Poor old lady! she is dead 
Long ago— 

That he had a Roman nose, 

And his cheek was like a rose 
In the snow. 

But now his nose is thin, 

And it rests upon his chin 
Like a staff; 

And a crook is in his back, 

And a melancholv crack 

•/ 

In his laugh. 

I know it is a sin 
For me to sit and grin 
At him here, 

But the old three-cornered hat, 
And the breeches,—and all that, 
Are so queer! 

And if I should live to be 
The last leaf upon the tree 
In the spring, 

Let them smile as I do now, 

At the old forsaken bough 
Where I cling. 







5,0 - 

























































90 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


CITY. 


BY WILHELM MUELLER. 


° o _ 


|^ARK! the faint bells of the sunken city 

Peal once more their wonted evening chime! 
From the deep abysses floats a ditty, 

Wild and wondrous, of the olden time. 



A 


Temples, towers, and domes of many stories 
There lie buried in an ocean grave,— 
Undescried, save when their golden glories 
Gleam, at sunset, through the lighted wave. 

And the mariner who had seen them glisten, 

In whose ears those magic bells do sound, 
Night by night bides there to watch and listen, 
Though death lurks behind each dark rock 
round. 

So the bells of memory’s wonder-city 
Peal forme their old melodious chime; 

So my heart pours forth a changeful ditty, 

Sad and pleasant, from the bygone time. 


Domes and towers and castles, fancy-builded, 
There lie lost to daylight’s garish beams,— 
There lie hidden till unveiled and gfilded. 
Glory-gilded by my nightly dreams! 

And then hear I music sweet upknelling 
From many a well-known phantom band, 
And, through tears can see my natural dwelling 
Far off in the spirit’s luminous land! 




ft 


<i> 




































AND THE WISE 



BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON. V 

^ fPjf)URLY, dozing humblebee! ^ 

Where thou art is clime for me; • *r' 

vj Let them sail for Porto Rique, 

Far-ofF heats through seas to seek, 

I will follow thee alone, 

Thou animated torrid zone! 
rj Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer, 

Let me chase thy waving lines; 
Keep me nearer, me thy hearer 
Sinofinof over shrubs and vines. 

O o 

Insect lover of the sun, 

Joy of thy dominion! 

Sailor of the atmosphere; ' 

Swimmer through the waves of air, 

Voyager of light and noon, ^ 

\( j Epicurean of June! 

*\ r J* Wait, I prithee, till I come 

"w Within earshot of thy hum,— 

yy All without is martyrdom. 

S When the south-wind, in May days, 

A With a net of shining haze 
Silvers the horizon wall; 

And with softness touching all, 

Tints the human countenance 

With the color of romance; _ 11 i i'^— 

2 f subtle heats _ 


And infusin 
Turns the sod to violets,— 
Thou in sunny solitudes, 

Rover of the underwoods, 

The preen silence dost displace 

O 1 

With thy mellow, breezy bass. 
































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


Hot midsummer’s petted crone, 

Sweet to me thy drowsy tone 
Tells of countless sunny hours, 

Long days, and solid banks of flowers; 

Of gulfs of sweetness without bound, 

In Indian wildernesses found; 

* 

Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure, 

Firmest cheer, and birdlike pleasure. 

Aught unsavory or unclean 
Hath my insect never seen; 

But violets, and bilberry bells, 

Maple sap, and daffodils, 

Grass with green flag half-mast high, 
Succory to match the sky, 

Columbine with horn of honey, 
Scented fern, and agrimony, 

Clover, catchfly, adder’s tongue, 

And briar-roses, dwelt among: 

All beside was unknown waste, 

All was picture as he passed 
Wiser far than human seer, 

Yellow-breeched philosopher; 


* V> 

Seeing only what is fair, 

Sipping only what is sweet, 

Thou dost mock at fate and care, 

Leave the chaff, and take the wheat. 
When the fierce northwestern blast 
Codls sea and land so far and fast,— 
Thou already slumberest deep; 

Woe and want thou canst outsleep; 
Want and woe, which torture us, 

Thy sleep makes ridiculous. 

so— * - 




















AND THE WISE. 




93 


A 


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+ W 
7U[\X^\ 



OWN on the shore, on the sunny shore 
Where the salt smell cheers the land; 

Where the tide moves bright under boundless light, 
And the surge on the glittering strand; 

Where the children wade in the glittering pools, 

Or run from the froth in play; 

Where the swift little boats with milk-white wings 
Are crossing the sapphire bay, 

And the ship in full sail, with a fortunate gale, 

Holds proudly on her way; 

Where the nets are spread on the grass to dry, 

And asleep, hard by, the fishermen lie, 

Under the tent of the warm blue sky, 

With the hushing wave on the golden floor 


To sing their lullaby. 

Down on the shore, on the stormy shore! 

Beset by a growling sea, 

Whose mad waves leap on the rocky steep 
Like wolves up a traveler’s tree. 

Where the foam flies wide, and an angry blast 
Blows the curlew off, with a screech; 

Where the brown seawrack, torn up by the roots, 

Is flung out of fishes’ reach; 

Where the tall ship rolls on the hidden shoals 
And scatters her planks on the beach, 

Where slate and straw through the village spin, 

And a cottage fronts the fiercest din, 

With a sailor’s wife sitting sad within, o 

Hearkening the wind and the water’s roar, 

Till at last her tears begin. 



































T 


* 


94 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


THE LION OP BELFORT. 




BY L. N. CHAPIN. 


- \ -o--§>—§-<•--• 

?N a petal’s point of the lily France, 

0)11 Where the line was drawn that crop’t the crown 
Of the Gallic power, with harsh mischance, 

'When the German’s helm broke the Frenchman’s lance, 
? Stands the loyal heart of the Belfort town. 



Here, when the flood of the Prussians burst 
Through the Vosges passes, a storm of flame, 

And the Frenchman’s fortunes were at their worst, 

An empire shattered, and an Emperor curs’t, 

The spirit of Vaubanold von Moltke could not tame. 


Nor siege, nor battle, though it sore oppres’t, 

Nor death that stalked at noonday through the town, 

Nor infants starving at their mother’s breast, 

Nor dreams of home that broke the soldier’s rest, 

Could bow the mighty heart of rocky Belfort down. 

A fiery cordon round her Paris ran, 

The fleur-de-lis went down in shame at Metz; 

Orleans was worsted by a Von der Tann, 

And blanched the sacred lilies at Sedan, 

But lordly Belfort still to dream of peace forgets. 

And down she flung defiance at her foes, 

And free in heaven she let her eagles fly; 

While, in the fierceness of her mortal throes, 

The lion’s whelp within her nature rose, 

And showed degenerate France how Frenchmen ought 
to die. 

Ah, France, that sought destruction from the fates 
And rent thyself with internecine strife; 

^---<*— := ■>- 





























o-«§S—§-<< 


AND fPHE WISE. 9S 


•That plied the torch to burn thine own great States, 

And slew thine own when foes were at the gates— 

Thine was the hand at last that took the Belfort life. 

The sovereign Gallic power recedes along the eastern line, 
Casts down its tribute at a conqueror’s feet: 

The Lorraine’s faded lilies and withered leaves entwine, 
While Kaiserblume blooms brightly along the German line; 
But time will keep the fragrance of Belfort glory sweet. 



THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY. 


BY EDMUND C. STEDMAN. 


-O- 


|OULD we but know 


—- \V£> 



The land that ends our dark, uncertain travel, 

Where lie those happier hills and meadows low,- 
Ah, if beyond the spirit’s inmost cavil, 

Aught of that country could we surely know, 


Who would not go? 


Might we but hear 

O 

The hovering angels’ high imagined chorus, 

Or catch, betimes, with wakeful eyes and clear, 
One radiant vista of the realm before us,— 

With one rapt moment given to see and hear, 
Ah, who would fear? 

Were we quite sure 

To find the peerless friend who left us lonely, 

Or there, by some celestial stream as pure, 

To gaze in eyes that here were lovelit only,— 
This weary mortal coil, were we quite sure, 
Who would endure? 



















=§>-§<•-*-—- . - 0 ' 


5 o-*§>-§-<« 

96 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


THE “CITY OP BOSTON. 




AVES of the ocean that thunder and roar, 
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore? 
Tell, as ye dash on the shivering strand, 
Wh ere * s the crew that comes never to land? 
PhPd Where are the hearts that, unfearing and gay, 
Broke from the clasp of affection away? 

Where are the faces that, smiling and bri ght, 
Sailed for the regions of death-darkened night? 
Waves of the ocean that thunder and roar, 
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore? 



o 

<> 

o 


t 


Storms of the ocean that bellow and sweep, 
Where are our friends that went forth on the 
deep? 

Where are the cheeks that paled at your sneer? 
Where are the hearts ye have frozen with fear? 
Where is the maiden so tender and fair? 

Where is the father of silvery hair? 

Where is the rich beauty of womanhood’s time? 
Where is the warm blood of man’s vi^or and 
prime? 

Storms of the ocean that bellow and pour, 
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore? 


Birds of the ocean that scream throucr h the 

O 

gale, 

What have ye seen of a wind-shaken sail? 
What have ye seen in your revels of glee, 
Birds of the bitter and treacherous sea? 

What of the heart-broken accents of prayer? 
What of the ravings of grief and despair? 
Perched ye for rest on the threatening mast, 























AND THE WISE. 97 J 


Beaten and shattered, and bent by the blast? 
Heard ye no message to carry away 
Home to the friends that are yearning to-day? 
Birds of the ocean, that hover and soar, 

Where is the ship that we sent from our shore? 

Depths of the ocean that fathomless lie, 

What of the barque that no more cometh nigh? 
What of the guests that so silently sleep 
Low in the chambers relentlessly deep? 

Cold is the couch they have helplessly won; 
Long is the night they have entered upon; 

Still must they sleep, till the trumpet o’erhead 
Summons the sea to uncover its dead. 

Depths of the ocean, with treasure in store, 
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore? 

God of the ocean, of mercy and power, 

Look we to Thee in this heart-crushing hour, 
Cold was the greedy and merciless wave; 

Warm was Thy love and Thy goodness, to save; 
Dark were the tempests that thundered and flew! 
Bright was Thy smile, bursting happily through! 
Take Thou the souls that followed Thine eye 
Home to the shores of the beautiful sky! 

Safe in Thy mercy and love evermore 
Leave we the ship that we sent from our shore! 

















































98 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




BY J. T. TROWBRIDGE. 

jj^OME from his journey Farm- 
Hn^\ er John 

Arrived this morning, safe 

(@) and sound. 

D- 

iS* His black coat off, and his 
old clothes on, 

“Now I’m myself,” says Farmer John; 

And he thinks, “I’ll look around.” 

Up leaps the dog. “ Get down, you pup! 

Are you so glad you would eat me up?” 

The old cow lows at the gate to greet him; 

The horses prick up their ears to meet him. 

“ Well, well, old Bay! 

Ha, ha, old Gray! 

Do you get good feed when I am away ? ” 

“You haven’t a rib!” says Farmer John; 

“ The cattle are looking round and sleek; 

The colt is going to be a roan, 

And a beauty too: how he has grown; 

We’ll wean the calf next week.” 

Says Farmer John, “When I’ve been off, 

To call you again about the trough, 

And watch you, and pet you, while you 
drink 

Is a greater comfort than you can 
think! 

























































i°——<r— 


AND THE WISE. 


99 





And he pats old Bay, 

And he slaps old Gray— 

“Ah, this is the comfort of going away!” 

“For, after all,” says Farmer John 

“ The best of a journey is getting home. 
I’ve seen great sights—but would I give 
This spot and the peaceful life I live 
For all their Paris and Rome? 

These hills for the city’s stifled air, 

And big hotels all bustle and glare, 

Land all houses, and roads all stones, 

That deafen your ears, and batter your bones? 
Would you, old Bay? 

Would you, old Gray? 

That’s what one gets by going away! 

“ I’ve found out this,” says Farmer John, 

“ That happiness is not bought and sold, 
And clutched in a life of waste and hurry, 

In nights of pleasure and days of worry; 

And wealth isn’t all in gold, 

Mortgage and stocks and ten per cent.— 

But in simple ways and sweet content, 

Few wants, pure hopes, 
and noble ends, 

Some land to till, and a 
few good friends 
Like you, old Bay, 

And you, old Gray! 

That’s what I’ve learned 

by going 
away.” 


/ 


















































■o—~§»— 
100 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


>>■$— 1 c ^' 


f 


And a happy man is Farmer John! 

O a rich and happy man is he! 

He sees the peas and pumpkins growing, 

The corn in tassel, the buckwheat blowing, 
And fruit on vine and tree. 

The large kind oxen look their thanks, 

As he rubs their foreheads, and strokes their 
flanks; 

The doves light round him, and strut and coo; 
Says Farmer John, “ I’ll take you too— 

And you, old Bay, 

And you, old Gray, 

Next time I travel so far away! ” 





--*o* ■ — - - 

little elbow leans upon your knee, 

Your tired knee that has so much to bear; 
A child’s dear eyes are looking lovingly 
From underneath a thatch of tangled hair: 
Perhaps you do not heed the velvet touch 
Of warm moist fingers holding yours so 
tight: 

You do not prize this blessing overmuch, 

You are almost too tired to pray to-night. 


But it is blessedness. A vear ago 

~ o 

I did not see it as I see to-day— 

We’re all so dull and thankless, and too slow 
To catch the sunlight till it slips away. 
And now it seems surpassing strange to me • 




>§■ 


H4 



















EVENING AT HOME 




























































































. 










* 


















































































































































































’ 













































AND THE WISE. 




101 


That while I wore the badge of motherhood, 
I did not kiss more oft and tenderly 

The little child that brought me only good. 


And if, some night, when you sit down to rest, 
You miss this elbow from your tired knee— 
This restless curly head from off your breast, 
The lisping tongue that chatters constantly; 
If from your own the dimpled hand had slipped, 
And never would nestle in your palm again; 
If the feet into their grave had slipped, 

I could not blame you for your heartache, then. 


I wonder so that mothers ever fret 

At little children clinging to their gown; 

Or that the footprints when the days are wet, 
Are ever black enough to make them frown. 

If I could find a little muddy boot 

Or cap or jacket on my chamber floor; 

If I could kiss a rosy, restless foot, 

And hear it natter in my home once more; 

If I could mend a broken cart to-day, 

To-morrow make a kite to reach the sky— 

There is no woman in God’s world could say 
She was more blissfully content than I. 

But ah! the dainty pillow next my own 
Is never rumpled by a shining head; 

Mv singing birdling from its nest has flown; 
The little boy I used to kiss is dead. 
















































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102 




THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL 


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P from the South at the break of day, 

' Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, 

The affrighted air with a shudder bore, 

Like a herald in haste to the chieftain's door, 
The terrible grumble and rumble and roar, 
Telling the battle was on once more, 

And Sheridan twenty miles away. 

And wider still those billows of war 
? Thundered along the horizon’s bar, 

And louder yet into Winchester rolled 
The roar of that red sea uncontrolled, 

Making the blood of the listener cold 
As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, 
And Sheridan twenty miles away. 


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But there is a road from Winchester town, 

G) A good, broad highway leading down; 

And there, through the flash of the morning light 
A steed as black as the steeds of nip-ht. 

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Was seen to pass as with eagle flight— 

As if he knew the terrible need, 

He stretched away with his utmost speed: 

Hill rose and fell—but his heart was gay, 

With Sheridan fifteen miles away. 

Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thund’ring south, 
The dust like the smoke from the cannon’s mouth, 

Or the trail of a comet sweeping faster and faster, 
Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster; 

The heart of the steed and the heart of the master 
Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, 
Impatient to be where the battle field calls: 


















































AND THE WISE. 


103 


Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play; 
With Sheridan only ten miles away. 

Under his spurning feet, the road 
Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed, 

And the landscape sped away behind 
Like an ocean flying before the wind; 

And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire, 

Swept on, with his wild eye full of fire; 

But lo! he is nearing his heart’s desire— 

He is snuffi.ig the smoke of the roaring fray, 

With Sheridan only five miles away. 


The first that the General saw was the groups 
Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops; 

What was done—what to do—a glance told him both, 
Then striking his spurs with a terrible oath, 

He dashed down the line ’mid a storm of huzzas, 

And the waves of retreat checked its course there, because 
The sight of the master compelled it to pause. 

With foam and with dust the black charger was grey, 
By the flash of his eye, and his red nostrils’ play, 

He seemed to the whole great army to say: 

“ I have brought you Sheridan all the way 
From Winchester down to save the day!” 


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Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan! 

Hurrah, hurrah for horse and man! 

And when their statues are placed on high 
Under the dome of the Union sky, 

The American soldier’s Temple of Fame, 
There with the glorious General’s name 
Be it said with letters both bold and bri ght, 
“ Here is the steed that saved the day 
By carrying Sheridan into the fight 
From Winchester—twenty miles away!” 







































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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL 


op Denmark's Ride. 


BY CAROLINE NORTON. 



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ORD was brought to the Danish King 
| (Hurry!) 

That the love of his heart lay suffering, 

And pined for the comfort his voice would 

(O! ride as though you were flying!) 

Better he loves eacli golden curl 
On the brow of that Scandinavian girl 
Than the rich crown jewels of ruby and pearl; 
And his Rose of the Isles lay dying. 

Thirty nobles saddled with speed; 

(Hurry!) 

Each one mounted a gallant steed 
Which he kept for battle, and days of need; 

(O! ride as though you were flying!) 

Spurs were struck in the foaming flank; 

Worn out chargers staggered and sank; 

Biidles were slackened, and girths were burst, 
But ride as they would the King rode first, 

For his Rose of the Isles lav dying. 

His nobles are beaten, one by one; 

(Hurry!) 

They have fainted and faltered, and homeward 
gone; 

His little fair page now follows alone, 

For strength and for courage trying! 

The King looked back on that faithful child, 
Wan was the face that answering smiled; 

They passed the draw-bridge with clattering din, 


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Then he dropped, and only the King rode in, 
Where the Rose of the Isles lay dying. 

The King blew a blast on his bugle horn; 
(Silence!) 

No answer came, blit faint and forlorn 
An echo returned on the cold gray morn, 

Like the breath of a spirit sighing. 

The castle portal stood grimly wide; 

None welcomed the King from that weary ride; 
For dead, in the light of the dawning day, 

The pale, sweet form of his welcomer lay, 
Who had yearned for his voice while dying. 


The panting steed, with a drooping crest, 
Stood weary. 

The King returned from her chamber of rest. 
The thick sobs choking in his breast; 

And that dumb companion eyeing, 

The tears gushed forth, which he strove to 
check; 

He bowed his head upon his neck; 

“ O! steed, that every nerve didst strain. 

Dear steed, our ride hath been in vain 
To the hall where my love lay dying.” 





BEN JONSON. 

Her house is all of Echo made 
Where never dies the sound; 

And as her brows the clouds invade, 
Her feet do strike the ground. 


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The hearth of home is beaming 
With rays of holy light, 

And loving eyes are gleaming, 
As fall the shades of night; 

And while thy steps are leav.ing 
The circle pure and bright, 

A tender voice half grieving, 

Says, “ Don’t stay late to-night.” 

The world in which thou mo vest, 

Is busy, brave and wide; 

The world of her thou lovest 
Is at the ingle side; 

She waits for thy warm greeting; 

Thy smile is her delight, 

Her gentle voice entreating, 

Says, “ Don’t stay late to-night.” 

The world—bold, inhuman— 

Will spurn thee, if thou fall; 

The love of one pure woman 
Outlasts and shames them all 

The children will cling ’round thee, 

Let fate be dark or brieht 

o 

At home no shaft can wound thee, 

Then “ Don’t stay late to night.” 
































BY J. G. HOLLAND. 


p^EAVEN is not reached at a single bound; 

But we build the ladder by which we rise 
f&ll From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, 
And we mount to its summit, round by round. 




1 count this thing to be grandly true: 

That a noble deed is a step toward God,— 
Lifting the soul from the common sod 
To a purer air and a broader view. 


['* We rise by the things that are under feet; 

By what we have mastered of good and gain; 
By the pride deposed, and the passion slain, 

And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet. 


We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust, 

When the morning calls us to life and light, 

But our hearts grow weary, and, ere the night, 

Our lives are trailing in sordid dust. 

We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray, 

And we think that we mount the air on wings 
Beyond the recall of sensual things, 

While our feet still cling to the heavy clay. 

Wings for the angels, but feet for the men! 

We may borrow the wings to find the way— 
We may hope and resolve, and aspire and pray; 

But our feet must rise, or we fall again. 

Only in dreams is a ladder thrown 

From the weary earth to the sapphire walls; 




— 4 - 































110 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL 




But the dreams depart and the vision falls, 
And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone. 

Heaven is not reached at a single bound; 

But we build the ladder by which we rise 
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, 
And we mount to its summit round by round. 


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|[OONER or later the storm shall beat 
Over my slumbers from head to feet; 


Sooner or later the winds shall rave 
pi In the long grass over my grave. 

I shall not heed them where I lie: 

Nothing their sound shall signify; 

Nothing the headstone’s fret of rain; 

Nothing to me the dark day’s pain. 

Sooner or later the sun shall shine 
With tender warmth on that mound of mine; 
Sooner or later in summer air 
Clover and violet blossom there. 

I shall not feel, in that deep laid rest, 

The sheeted light fall over my breast; 

Nor ever note in those hidden hours, 

The wind-blown breath of the tossing flowers. 

Sooner or later the stainless snows 
Shall add their hush to my mute repose; 

Sooner or later shall slant and shift, 

And heap my bed with their dazzling drift. 




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AND THE WISE. 


Chill though that frozen pall shall seem, 

Its touch no colder can make the dream 
That recks not the sweet and sacred dread, 
Shrouding the city of the dead. 

Sooner or later the bee shall come 
And fill the noon with its golden hum; 
Sooner or later, on half-poised wing, 

The blue-bird’s warble about me ring. 

Ring, and chirrup, and whistle with glee, 
Nothing his music shall mean to me; 

None of these beautiful things shall know 
How soundly their lover sleeos below. 

Sooner or later, far out in the night, 

The stars shall over me wing their flight; 
Sooner or later the darkling dews 
Catch the white sparks in their silent ooze. 

Never a ray shall part the gloom 
That wraps me round in that kindly tomb; 
Peace shall be perfect for lip and brow — 
Sooner or later—oh, why not now ? 


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THE EAGLE. 


BY ALFRED TENNYSON. 


Jjl^E clasps the crag with hooked hands; 
Close to the sun in lonely lands, 

Ringed with the azure world, he stands. 


The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; 
He watches from his mountain walls, 
And like a thunderbolt he falls. 















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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


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BY PHCEBE CARY. 


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|^P[UPPOSE, my little lady, 

Your doll should break her head, 

Could you make it whole by crying 
(F/fyd Till your eyes and nose were red? 

|{% And wouldn’t it be pleasanter 
To treat it as a joke; 

And say you’re glad ’twas dolly’s 
And not your head that broke? 

Suppose you’re dressed for walking, 
And the rain comes pouring down, 
Will it clear off any sooner 
Because you scold and frown ? 

And wouldn’t it be nicer 
For you to smile than pout, 

And so make sunshine in the house 
When there is none without? 

Suppose your task, my little man, 

Is very hard to get, 

Will it make it any easier, 

For you to sit and fret? 

And wouldn’t it be wiser, 

Than waiting like a dunce, 

To get to work in earnest, 

And learn the thing at once ? 

Suppose that some boys have a horse, 

And some a coach and pair, 

Will it tire you less while walking 
To say “ It isn’t fair”? 































AND THE WISE. 


And wouldn’t it be nobler 
To keep your temper sweet, 

And in your heart be thankful 
You can walk upon your feet? 

Suppose the world don’t please you, 
Nor the way some people do, 

Do you think the whole creation 
Will be altered just for you? 

And isn’t it, my boy or girl, 

The wisest, bravest plan, 
Whatsoever comes, or doesn’t come, 
To do the best you can. 

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DON'T CROWD . 


BY CHARLES DICKENS. 



l 


ON’T crowd, the world is large enough 
For you as well as me: 

The doors of all are open wide— 

The realm of thought is free. 

In all earth’s palaces you are right 
To choose the best you can— 

Provided that you do not try 
To crowd some other man. 

Don’t crowd the good from out your 
heart, 

By fostering all that’s bad, 

But give to every virtue room— 

The best that may be had; 

To each day’s record such a one 
That you may well be proud; 

Give each his right—give each his room, 
And never try to crowd. 




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8 
































rFHE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL 



A gentle creature is Barbara, 

Little brown-haired Barbara. 

The smiles are constant on her lips, 

As the weaving thread at her finger-tips, 
And I know, as she follows loop and seam, 
In her girlish brain some tender theme 
Runs, stitch by stitch, into a dream 
That pleases little Barbara. 



BY MRS. CLARA DOTY BATES. 

busy spirit is Barbara, 

Little dark-eyed Barbara, 

As there at the sunlit pane she stands, 

The half-knit stocking in her hands. 

The swift thread follows the fingers’ play, 
As she holds it aloft in the German way, 
And the needles glitter, as if to say, 

“ We’re working for little Barbara.” 



What is it, little Barbara? 

The knitting dream, sweet Barbara? 
I half surmise that you believe 
When comes the blessed Christmas Eve, 
That a step across the hearth will flit, 
And the very stocking that now you knit, 

Will be left with a wonderful gift in it_ 

Kriss Kringle’s gift—ah, Barbara! 

Kriss Kringle does watch, Barbara; 

He loves a good child, Barbara; 


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AND JUHE WISE. 115 f 


He sees, though neither strong nor tall; !* 

Some service you would do for all: 

He sees your feet so quick to start, 

Your hands so ready to do their part; 

And you know he has a large warm heart— 

So knit away, little Barbara. 


I 



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BY BRET HARTE. 



IS^lACKENED and bleeding, helpless, panting, 

m P rone ’ 

- On the charred fragments of her shattered 
throne 

Lies she who stood but yesterday alone. 

Queen of the west! by some enchanter taught 
y To lift the glory of Aladdin’s court, 

Then lose the spell that all that wonder wrought. 

Like her own prairies by some chance seed sown, 
Like her own prairies in one brief day grown, 
lake her own prairies in one fierce night mown, 

She lifts her voice, and in her pleading call 
We hear the cry of Macedon to Paul— 

The cry for help that makes her kin to all. 


But happy with wan fingers may she feel 
The silver cup hid in the proffered meal— 
The gifts her kinship and our loves reveal. 





































BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 






15 

it 


M T lies around us like a cloud, 

A world we do not see; 

^ Yet the sweet closing of an eye 
May bring us there to be. 

Its gentle breezes fan our cheek; 
Amid our worldly cares 
* Its gentle voices whisper love, 

And mingle with our prayers. 

Sweet hearts around us throb and beat, 
Sweet helping hands are stirred, 
And palpitates the veil between 
With breathings almost heard. 


The silence—awful, sweet, and calm— 
They have no power to break; 

For mortal words are not for them 
To utter or partake. 

So thin, so soft, so sweet they erlide, 

7 J O 7 

So near to press they seem,— 

They seem to lull us to our rest, 

And melt into our dream. 

And in the hush of rest they bring 
’Tiseasy now to see 
How lovely and how sweet a pass 
The hour of death may be. 



To close the eye, and close the ear, 
Rapt in a trance of bliss, 

And gently dream in loving arms 
To swoon to that—from this. 
































AND THE WISE. 


Scarce knowing if we wake or sleep, 
Scarce asking where we are, 

To feel all evil sink away, 

All sorrow and all care. 



Sweet souls around us! watch us still, 
Press nearer to our side, 

Into our thoughts, into our prayers, 
With gentle helpings glide. 

Let death between us be as naught, 
A dried and vanished stream; 
Your joy be the reality, 

Our suffering life the dream. 



BY EDNA DEAN PROCTOR. 


tJ r -- 

j- ? 7 a THE Mountain Maid, New Hampshire! 
? tl'jj Her steps are light and free, 

Whether she treads the lofty heights 
Or follows the brooks to the sea! 

Her eyes are clear as the skies that hang 
Over her hills of snow, 

And her hair is dark as the shadows 
That fall where the fir-trees grow— 

The fir-trees, slender and somber, 

That climb from the vales below. 



Sweet is her voice as the robin’s, 

In a lull of the wind of March, 
Wooing the shy arbutus 

At the roots of the budding larch; 
And rich as the ravishing echoes 






<*> 


































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


IIS 



On still Franconia’s Lake, 

When the boatman winds his magic horn, 
And the tongues of the wood awake, 
While the huge stone face forgets to frown 
And the hare peeps out of the brake. 

The blasts of the dark December 
But deepen the bloom on her cheek, 

And the snows rear her temples more glorious 
Than goddess e’er won from the Greek. 
She welcomes the fervid summer, 

And flies to the sounding shore 
Where bleak Boar’s Head looks seaward, 

Set in the billows’ roar, 

And dreams of her sailors and fishers 
Till cool days come once more. 





Then how fair is the Maiden, 

Crowned with the scarlet leaves, 

And wrapped in the tender, misty veil 
That the Indian Summer weaves! 

While the aster blue, and the golden rod, 
And immortelles, clustering sweet, 

From Canada down to the sea have spread 
A carpet for her feet; 

And the hunt witch-hazel buds unfold, 

Her latest smile to greet. 

She loves the song of the reapers, 

The ring of the woodman’s steel, 

The whirr of the glancing shuttle, 

The rush of the tireless wheel. 

But, if war befalls, her sons she calls 
From mill and forge and lea, 

And bids them uphold her banner 
Till the land from strife is free; 

- -----o- 
















































H4 



AND ITHB WISE. 



And she hews her oaks into vengeful ships, 
That sweep the foe from the sea. 


O the Mountain Maid, New Hampshire! 

For beauty, and wit, and will, 

I’ll mate her to-day with the fairest 
That rules on the plain or the hill! 

New York is a princess in purple, 

By the gems of her cities crowned; 

Illinois with the garland of Ceres 
Her tresses of gold has bound— 

Queen of the limitless prairies, 

Where the great sheaves heap the ground; 


And out by the far Pacific 
Their gay young sisters say, 

“Ours are the mines of the Indies 
And the treasures of broad Cathay;” 
And the dames of the South walk, stately, 
Where the fig and the orange fall, 

And, hid in the high magnolias, 

The mocking thrushes call; 

But the Mountain Maid, New Hampshire, 
Is the rarest of them all! 



First, then, a woman will, or won’t, depend on’t; 
If she will do’t she will; and there’s an end on’t. 
But if she won’t,since safe and sound your trust is, 
Fear is affront, and jealousy injustice. 


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THE WATER MILL. 

BY BRIGADIER-GENERAL M’CALLUM. 


f^ISTEN to the water-mill 

Through the livelong day— 
How the clinking of the wheel 
Wears the weary hours away. 
Languidly the autumn wind 
Stirs the withered leaves; 

On the field the reapers sing, 
Binding up the sheaves; 

And a proverb to my mind, 

As a spell is cast: 

(*>\i /9 “ The mill will never grind 

With the water that is Dast.” 


Summer winds revive no more 

Leaves strewn over earth and main, 
And the sickle ne’er can reap 
1 he gathered grain again; 

[j And the rippling stream flows on, 

Tranquil, deep, and still_ 

Never gliding back again 
To the water-mill. 

Truly speaks the proverb old, 

With a meaning vast; 
u The mill will never grind 
YV ith the water that is past.” 


V9 


O the wasted hours of life 
That have swiftly drifted bv! 

O the good we might have done! 

Gone! lost without a sigh! 

Love that we might once have saved 
By a single kindly word! 





— 

























AND IPHB WISE. 



Thoughts conceived, but ne’er expressed, 
Perishing, unpenn’d, unheard! 

Take the proverb to thy soul— 

Take and clasp it fast: 

“The mill will never grind 
With the water that is past! ” 

O! lo ve thy God and fellow man, 
Thyself consider last, 

For come it will when thou must scan 
Dark errors of the past; 

And when the fight of life is o’er, 

And earth recedes from view— 

And heaven in all its glory shines, 
’Midst the pure, the good, the true— 
Then you’ll see more clearly 
The proverb deep and vast: 

« The mill will never grind 
With the water that is past.” 



Take the lesson to thyself, 

Loving hearts and true; 

Golden years are fleeting by; 

Youth is passing too. 

Learn to make the most of life, 
Lose no happy day; 

Time will ne’er return sweet joys 
Neglected, thrown away. 

Leave no tender word unsaid, 

But love while love shall last— 

“ The mill will never grind 
With the water that is past.” 

Work while yet the sun doth shine, 
Man of strength and will; 


<i> 































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


Never does the streamlet glide 
Unless by the mill; 

Wait not till to-morrow’s sun 
Beams brightly on thy way, 

All that thou canst call thine own 
Lies in the phrase “ to-day.” 

Power, intellect, and blooming health 
May not, will not always last; 

“ The mill will never grind 
With the water that is past.” 




THE COMET STRIKES . 


BY L. N. CHAPIN. 


w 

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] HE comet is speeding on its wav; 
fc From stately heights in the sun’s bright ray 
I And cloud-land piles of gold and grav, 

Where many a bright orb softly whirls, 
Its glorious bannered train unfurls. 

X When the comet strikes this dark earth’s 
crown, 

With holy fire from the sun brought down; 
The giant systems of wrong shall fly, 

To avoid the bore of its nuclei, 

And the bittern of evil shall spread swift-sail, 
For fear of the rasp of its harrowino- tail.. 

When the comet strikes, as strike it must, 

It shall grind the power of crime to dust, 
And the hate entrenched shall blanche and 
quake, 

To feel the reed of its power break. 





a 


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AND THE WISE. 123 


When the comet strikes, the thieves that rob 
The temples of justice and of God, 

Shall be driven thence, and made to flee, 

By the thousand-fold scourge of its nebulae. 

When the comet strikes, the bolt shall fall 
On the treason that shams and betrays us all. 
On the lust of power enthroned in state, 

And the fashion of making a virtue of hate; 
On human tigers that hide their claws, 

And masquerade under forms of laws, 

On the planted heresy of poison seeds, 

And the hatefuler crop of hateful deeds. 
That day shall a bell be hung in the sky, 

To proclaim the hour of redemption nigh, 
And men shall be sweetly and hopefully 
humming 

That sons of the bondmen free: 

o 

“ It must be now that the Kingdom’s coming 
And the year of jubilee.” 





PHILIP JAMES BAILEV. 



0 — 


We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; 

In feelings, not in figures on a dial. 

We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives, 

Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best. 

And he whose heart beats quickest lives the longest: 

Lives in one hour more than in years do some 
Whose fat blood sleeps as it slips along their veins. 

Life is but a means unto an end; that end, v 

Beginning, mean, and end to all things, —God! ^ 

The dead have all the glory of the world. 





























TPHE BEAU^IFULt, THE WONDERFUL, 





LOOKING 

if 

HE fretted waters of 
the bay 

Roll golden in the 
rising sun, 

And swiftly o’er the shin¬ 
ing way 

O w 

The ships go gliding one by one. 

Athwart the hills that grandly lie, 
Dipping their bare feet in the sea, 

The sails, like white clouds floating by, 
Cast quaint, quick shadows as they flee. 


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Far out, where sky and ocean run 

To one bright line of light and foam, 
Those motes that glisten in the sun 
Are happy vessels bounding home. 

And here, amid the city whirled 

By toil and strife and care, we stand, 
And look upon that ocean-world 

As souls look on the Promised Land 

Here, all things weary seem, and worn; 

Our eyes are strained with dust and tears; 
But there, whence those bright motes are 
borne, 

How pure and lovely each appears! 


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AND rPHB WISE. 





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’Tis so; for now, were we with those 
Whose eyes have, sure, a longing gleam 

On the far-coming ships, who knows 
How precious might this haven seem! 

What storms and perils hardly passed— 
What davs of doubt and nights of fear— 

Have strained the hearts that now, at last 
Draw nearer home, and still more near! 

This is a type of all our days: 

For ever holding up the glass 

To gaze far off through golden rays 
On things whereto we may not pass. 

For ever thinking joys that are, 

Are sodden, dull and full of pain; 

And those that glisten from afar 

Hold all the gloss and all the gain! ^ 

sr- 51 


W 

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TENNYSON. 


3)1 


[HE winds, as at their hour of birth, 
Y ■'A.f Leani ng upon the ridged sea, 
Breathed low around the rolling earth, 
With mellow prelude, “ We are free. 


57 


The streams through many a lilied row, 
Down-caroling to the crisped sea 
Low-tinkled with a bell-like flow 

Atween the blossom “ We are free.” 








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'THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 



>-*>— 


HE hue of her hide was a dusky brown, 

Her body was lean, and her neck was slim, 
One horn turned up and the other turned down, 
She was keen of vision and long of limb; 
With a Roman nose and a short stump tail, 

And ribs like the hoops on a home-made pail. 

Many a mark did her body bear; 

She had been a target for all things known; 

On many a scar the dusky hair 

Would grow no more where it once had 
grown; 

Many a passionate, parting shot 

Had left upon her a lasting spot. 

Many ana many a well-aimed stone, 

Many a brickbat of goodly size, 

And many a cudgel, swiftly thrown, 

Had brought the tears to her bovine eyes; 

Or had bounded off from her bony back, 

With a noise like the sound of a rifle crack. 

Many a day had she passed in the pound 
For helping herself to her neighbor’s corn; 

Many a cowardly cur and hound 

Had been transfixed on her crumpled horn; 

Many a teapot and old tin pail 

Had the farmer boys tied to her time-worn tail. 

Old Deacon Gray was a pious man, 

Though sometimes tempted to be profane, 

When many a weary mile he ran 

To drive her out of his growing grain. 




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o-«§»—£<« 


AND THE WISE. 


Sharp were the pranks she used to play 
To get her fill and to get away. 



She knew when the deacon went to town; 

She wisely watched him when he went by; 
He never passed her without a frown 
And an evil gleam in each angry e\ r e; 

He would crack his whip in a surly way, 

And drive along in his “one-hoss shay.” 


Then at his homestead she loved to call, 
Lifting his bars with her crumpled horn; 
Nimbly scaling his garden wall, 

Helping herself to his standing corn; 
Eating his cabbage, one by one, 

H urrying home when her work was done. 


His human passions were quick to rise, 

And striding forth with a savage cry, 

With fury blazing from both his eyes, 

As lightnings flash in a summer skv, 

Redder and redder his face would grow, 

And after the creature he would go, 

Over the garden, round and round, 

Breaking his pear and apple trees; 

Tramping his melons into the ground, 
Overturning his hives of bees; 

Leaving him angry and badly stung, 

Wishing the old cow’s neck was wrung. 

The mosses grew on the garden wall: 

The years went by with their work and play; 
The boys of the village grew strong and tall, 
And the gray-haired farmers passed away, 
One by one as the red leaves fall, 

But the highway cow outlived them all. 













0 -■§>— 

128 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




Tis heaven alone that is given away, 

Tis only Crocl may be had for the asking; 
Theie is no pi ice set on the lavish summer, 
And June may be had by the poorest comer. 




BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 




|[ARTH gets its price from what earth gives us; 

The beggar is taxed for a corner to die in, 

The priest hath his fee who comes and shrives us 
We bargain for the graves we lie in; 

At the devil’s booth are all things sold, 

Each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold; 

For a cap and bells our lives we pay, 

Bubbles we earn with a whole soul’s taking:: 

o 


3 


And what is so rare as a day in June? 
Then, if ever, come perfect days; 



















AND THE WISE. 


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Then heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, 

And over it softly her warm ear lays: 

Whether we look, or whether we listen, 

We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; 

Every clod feels a stir of might, 

An instinct within it that reaches and towers, 

^ And, groping blindly above it for light, 
Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers; 
f The flush of life may well be seen 

Thrilling back over hills and valleys; 

The cowslip starts in meadows green, 

The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, 

And there’s never a leaf ora blade too mean 
To be some happy creature’s palace; 

The little bird sits at his door in the sun, 

Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, 

And lets his illumined being o’errun 

With the deluge of summer it receives; 

His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, 

And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and 
sings; 

He sings to the wide world, and she to her 
nest,— 

In the nice ear of Nature, which song is 
the best? 






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130 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 



\— 




fwHERE is no flock, however watched and tended, 
But one dead lamb is there! 

There is no fireside, howsoe’er defended, 

But has one vacant chair! 

The air is full of farewells to the dying, 

And mournings for the dead! 

The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, 
Will not be comforted! 


• 

o 

o 

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41 

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Let us be patient! These severe afflictions 
Not from the ground arise, 

But oftentimes celestial benedictions 
Assume this dark disguise. 

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors; 

Amid these earthly damps 
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers 
May be heaven’s distant lamps. 



There is no Death! What seems so is transition: 

This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian, 

Whose portal we call Death. 

She is not dead,—the child of our affection,_ 

But gone unto that school 
Where she no longer needs our poor protection, 
And Christ himself doth rule. 

In that great cloister’s stillness and seclusion, 

By guardian angels led, 







































o -y— 


AND THE WISE. 


s|—o 

181 


Safe from temptation, safe from sin’s pollution, 
She lives whom we call dead. 



Day after day we think what she is doing 
In those bright realms of air; 

Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, 
Behold her grown more fair. 


Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken 
The bond which nature gives, 

Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken, 
May reach her where she lives. 



Not as a child shall we again behold her; 

For when, with raptures wild, 

In our embraces we again enfold her, 

She will not be a child: 

But a fair maiden, in her Father’s mansion, 
Clothed with celestial grace; 

And beautiful with all the soul’s expansion, 
Shall we behold her face. 


And though, at times, impetuous with emotion 
And anguish long suppressed, 

The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean, 
That cannot be at rest,— 


We will be patient, and assuage the feelin 
We may not wholly stay; 

Be silence sanctifying, not concealing, 
The grief that must have way. 



















o—^>-^4 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


DRIVING NOME THE COWS. 


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mUT of the clover and blue-eyed grass, 

Ml He turned them into the river-lane; 

>r \\vy/' 

jy One after another he let them pass, 

Then fastened the meadow bars again. 

Under the willows and over the hill, 

He patiently followed their sober pace; 
The merry whistle for once was still, 

And something shadowed the sunny face. 

Only a boy! and his father had said 
He never could let his youngest go: 

Two already were lying dead 

Under the feet of the trampling foe. 




But after the evening work was done, 

And the frogs were loud in the meadow- 
swamp, 

Over his shoulder he slung his gun, 

And stealthily followed the foot-path damp- 


Across the clover, and through the wheat, 

With resolute heart and purpose grim, 
Though cold was the dew on his hurrying 1 feet. 
And the blind bats’ flitting startled him. 


Thrice since then had the lanes been white, 
And the orchards sweet with apple-bloom; 
And now, when the cows come back at nifrht 
The feeble father drove them home. 

For news had come to the lonely farm 

That three were lying where two had lain- 

























AND JPHE WISE. 



<► 


And the old man’s tremulous, palsied arm 
Could never lean on a son’s again. 

The summer day grew cool and late; 

He went for the cows when the work was 
done; 

But down the lane, as he opened the gate, 

He saw them coming, one by one,— 

Brindle, Ebony, Speckle, and Bess, 

Shaking their horns in the evening 
wind, 

Cropping the buttercups out of the 
grass— 

But who was it following close 
behind ? 

Loosely swung in the idle air 
The empty sleeve of army blue, 

And worn and pale, from the crisp¬ 
ing hair, 

Looked out a face that the father knew:— 



For Southern prisons will sometimes yawn, 
And yield their dead unto life again; 

And the day that comes with a cloudy dawn 
In golden glory at last may wane. 

The great tears sprang to their meeting eyes; 
For the heart must speak when the lips are 
dumb, 

And under the silent evening skies 
n Together they followed the cattle home. 


— e— -> ■-f 














































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 






134 





BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER. 

I had known in the morning 
How wearily all the day 
The words unkind 
Would trouble my mind 
I said when you went away; 
had been more careful, darling, 

Nor given you needless pain; 

But we vex “ our own” 

With look and tone 
We may never take back again. 

For though in the quiet evening 
You may give us the kiss of peace, 

Yet it might be 
That never for me 
The pain of the heart should cease. 

How many go forth in the morning 
That never come home at nisrht! 

And hearts have broken 
For harsh words spoken 
That sorrow can ne’er set right. 

We have careful thoughts for the stranger 
And smiles for the sometime euest: 

O 7 

But oft for “ our own” 

The bitter tone, 

Though we love “our own” the best. 

Ah! lips with the curve impatient! 

Ah! brow with that look of scorn! 

’Twere a cruel fate . 

Were the night too late ^fp" ) 

To undo the work of the morn. 




H*- 


3 —Ch 























































BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 


Sjp^ER hands are cold; her face is white; 


. 3 - •0^0**vAaa. 



No more her pulses come and go; 
Her eyes are shut to life and light; 

Fold the white vesture, snow on snow, 
VV And la Tr her where the violets blow. 


But not beneath a graven stone, 

To plead for tears with alien eyes; 
A slender cross of wood alone 
Shall say that here a maiden lies 
In peace beneath the peaceful skies. 


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And gray old trees of hugest limb 

Shall wheel their circling shadows round, 
To make the scorching sunlight dim, 

That drinks the greenness from the ground, 
And drop their dead leaves on her mound. 

When o’er their boughs the squirrels run, 

And through their leaves the robins call, 
And, ripening in the autumn sun, 

The acorns and the chestnuts fall, 

Doubt not that she will heed them all. 

For her the morning choir shall sing 
Its matins from the branches high, 

And every minstrel voice of spring, 

That trills beneath the April sky, 

Shall greet her with its earliest cry. 


T 

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When, turning round their dial track, 
Eastward the lengthening shadows pass, 
Her little mourners clad in black, 































o-■§)— 

136 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


The crickets sliding through the grass, 
Shall pipe for her an evening mass. 

At last, the rootlets of the trees 

Shall find the prison where she lies, 
And bear the buried dust they seize 
In leaves and blossoms to the skies, 

So may the soul that warmed it rise! 

If any, born of kindlier blood, 

Should ask what maiden lies oelow, 
Say only this: A tender bud, 

That tried to blossom in the snow, 

Lies withered where the violets blow. 


•M-#— 


A 



BY THOMAS HOOD. 



H, saw ye not Fair Inez? 

She’s gone into the west, 

To dazzle when the sun is down, 
And rob the world of rest. 

She took our daylight with her, 

The smiles that we love best, 
With morning blushes on her cheek, 
And pearls upon her breast. 


Oh, turn again, fair Inez, 

Before the fall of night, 

For fear the moon should shine alone, 
And stars unrivaled brio-ht: 

And blessed will the lover be 
That walks beneath their liofht, 

o / 

And breathes the love against thy cheek 
I dare not even write! 


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AND THE WISE. 


■< $— 


Would I had been, fair Inez, 
That gallant cavalier 


Who rode so gaily by thy side, 

And whispered thee so near! 

Were there no bonny dames at home, 
Or no true lovers here, 

That he should cross the seas to win 
The dearest of the dear? 



I saw thee, lovely Inez, 

Descend along the shore, 

With a band of noble gentlemen, 

And banners wav’d before; 

And gentle youth and maidens gay, 
And snowy plumes they wore; 

It would have been a beauteous dream, 
If it had been no more! 


Alas! alas! fair Inez! 

She went away with song,' 

With music waiting on her steps, 

And shoutings of the throng; 

But some were sad, and felt no mirth, 
But only music’s wrong, 

In sounds that sang farewell, farewell, 
To her you’ve loved so long. 

Farewell, farewell, fair Inez, 

That vessel never bore 
So fair a lady on its deck, 

Nor danced so light before. 

Alas, for pleasure on the sea 
And sorrow on the shore! 

The smile that blest one lover’s heart 
Has broken many more. 




























138 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


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BY ROSE TERRY. 







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|VER the river on the hill, 

Lieth a village white and still— 

o 

All around it the forest trees 
Whisper and shiver in the breeze; 

Over it sailing shadows °o 
Of soaring hawk and screaming crow, 

And mountain grasses, low and sweet, 
Grow in the middle of every street. 

Over the river under the hill, 

Another village lieth still, 

There I see in the cloudy night,* 

Twinkling stars of household light; 

Fires that gleam from the smithy’s door, 
Mists that curl on the river’s shore, 

And in the road no grasses grow, 

For wheels are hast’ning to and fro. 

In that village on the hill, 

Never is the sound of smithy or mill— 

The houses are thatched with grasses and flow 
Never a clock to tell the hours; 

The marble doors are always shut, 

You cannot enter in hall or hut, 

All the villagers lie asleep, 

Never again to sow or reap; 

No more in dreams to moan and sigh, 

Silent and idle, and low they lie. 

In that village under the hill, 

When the night is starry and still. 


ers. 




3—n- 















































AND mHE WISE. 


139 


Many a weary soul in prayer, 

Looks to the other village there; 

And, weeping and sighing, longs to go— 
Up to that home from this below, 

Longs to sleep in the forest wild, 
Whither have vanished wife and child, 
And praying, hears this answer fall, 
Patience, that village will hold you all. 



OF THE 






jHHNE of the sweet old chapters, 


After a day like this; 

The day brought tears and trouble, 
The evening brings no kiss. 

vV 

No rest in the arms I long for— 
Rest, and refuge, and home: 
Grieved and lonely and weary, 
Unto the Book I come. 


One of the sweet old chapters— 
The love that blossoms through 
His care of the birds and lilies, 
Out in the meadow-dew. 


His evening lies soft around them; 

Their faith is simply to be, 

O hushed by the tender lesson, 

My God! let me rest in thee! 
















>-£—*§--o' 



140 THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 













































AND THE WISE. 







In lofty lines, 

’Mid palms and pines, 

And olives, aloes, elms, and vines 
Sorrento swings 
On sweetest wings, 

Where Tasso’s spirit soars and sings. 


I heed not, if 
My rippling skiff 
Float swift or slow from cliff 
to cliff;— 

V With dreamful eyes 
My spirit lies 

Under the walls of Paradise. 




Under the walls 
Where swells and falls 
The Bay’s deep breast at in¬ 
tervals; 

At peace I lie, 

Blown softly by, 

A cloud upon this liquid sky. 

The day, so mild, 

Is Heaven’s own child, 

With earth and ocean reconciled;— 
The airs I feel 
Around me steal, 

Are murmuring to the murmuring keel. 


W 


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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 



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AND THE WISE. 


Yon deep bark goes 
Where Traffic blows, 

From lands of sun to lands of snows 
This happier one, 

Its course is run, 

From lands of snow to lands of sun. 


14S <> 





O happy ship, 

To rise and dip, 

With the blue crystal at your lip! 
O happy crew, 

My heart with you 
Sails, and sails, and sings anew! 


No more, no more 
The worldly shore 
Upbraids me with its loud uproar! 
With dreamful eyes 
My spirit lies 

Under the walls of Paradise! 



























-*<■ 


—o' 


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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 



By HENRY DAVID THOREAU. 


: *> ^ 


IGHT-WINGED Smoke! Icarian bird, 


Melting thy pinions in thy upward fli ght; 
Lark without song, and messenger of dawn, 
VVS Circling above the hamlets as thy nest; 

,4 Or else, departing dream, and shadowy form 
[| Of midnight vision, gathering up thy skirts; 
By night star-veiling, and by day 
Darkening the light, and blotting out the sun; 

Go thou, my incense upward from this hearth, 

And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame. 




'$ QUESTION. 


BY ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTOR. 



• O^O 


EFORE I trust my fate to thee, 

Or place my hand in thine, 

Before I let thy future give 
Color and form to mine, 

Before I peril all for thee, 
Question thy soul to-night for me. 


I break all slighter bonds, nor feel 
A shadow of regret: 

Is there one link within the past 
That holds thy spirit yet? 

Or is thy faith as clear and free 
As that which I can pledge to thee? 


30 
































<T> 


AND HHE WISE. 


Does there within thy dimmest dreams 
A possible future shine, 

Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe, 
Untouched, unshared by mine? 

If so, at any pain or cost, 

O tell me before all is lost! 



Look deeper still: if thou canst feel, 
Within thy inmost soul, 

That thou hast kept a portion back, 
While I have staked the whole; 
Let no false pity spare the blow, 

But in true mercy tell me so. 

Is there within thy heart a need 
That mine cannot fulfil? 

One chord that any other hand 
Could better wake or still? 

Speak now, lest at some future day 
My whole life wither and decay. 


Lives there within thy nature hid 
The demon spirit, change, 

Shedding a passing glory still 
On all things new and strange ? 

It may not be thy fault alone,— 

But shield my heart against thine own. 



Couldst thou withdraw thy hand one day 
And answer to my claim, 

That fate, and that to-day’s mistake,— 

Not thou,—had been to blame? ° 

Some soothe their conscience thus; but thou 
Wilt surely warn and save me now. 


10 


3 > —eh 























-•>»— 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


4 — 






Nay, answer not ,—I dare not hear; 

The words would come too late; 
Yet I would spare thee all remorse, 
So comfort thee, my fate: 
Whatever on my heart may fall, 
Remember, I 'would risk it all! 







[The remark of a friend is true: “There is no such thing- as renewing old enthusiasms.”] 

- % - 

|H, sweet and fair! oh, rich and rare! 
a/I That day so long ago, 

The Autumn sunshine everywhere, 

\The heather all aglow, 

The ferns were clad in cloth of gold, 

The waves sang on the shore; 

Such suns will shine, such waves will sing, 
Forever, evermore. 

Oh, fit and few! oh, tried and true! 

The friends who met that day, 

Each one the other’s spirit knew; 

And so in earnest play 
The hours flew past, until at last 
The twilight kissed the shore; 

We said, “Such days shall come again 
Forever, evermore.” 

One day again, no cloud of pain 
A shadow o’er us cast, 

And yet we strove in vain, in vain 
To conjure up the past; 



























AND THE WISE. 


•44* 






Like, but unlike, the sun that shone, 
The waves that beat the shore. 

The words we said, the songs we sung, 
Like—unlike—evermore. 


For ghosts unseen crept in between, 
And, when our songs flowed free, 
Sang discords in an undertone, 

And marred the harmony. 

“The past is ours, not yours,” they said, 
“ The waves that beat the shore, 
Though like the same, are not the same, 
Oh! never, nevermore!” 




IJl’YE know the road to th’ bar’l o’ flour? 



At break o’ day let down the bars, 
And plow y’r wheat-field, hour by hour, 
<§^1) Till sundown—ves, till shine o’ stars. 



You peg away the livelong day. 

Nor loaf about, nor gape around; 

And that’s the road to the thrashin’-floor, 
And into the kitchen, I’ll be bound! 


D’ ye know the road where dollars lays? 

Follow the red cents, here and there: 
For if a man leaves them, I guess, 

He won’t find dollars anywhere. 

D’ye know the road to Sunday’s rest? 

Tist don’t o’ week-days be afeard; 
























"sK-shO 

14s 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


—<§» 


In field and workshop do y’r best, 

And Sunday comes itself, I’ve heel'd. 



On Saturdays it’s not fur off, 

And brings a basketful o’ cheer— 

A roast, and lots o’ garden-stuff, 

And, like as not, a jug o’ beer! 

D’ ye know the road to poverty? 

Turn in at any tavern-sign: 

Turn in—it’s temptin’ as can be. 

There’s bran’-new cards and liquor fine. 

In the last tavern there’s a sack, 

And, when the cash y’r pocket quits, 
Just hang the wallet on y’r back— 

You vagabond! see how it fits! 

D’ye know what road to honor leads, 

And good old age?—a lovely sight! 

By way o’ temperance, honest deeds, 

And tryin’ to do y’r dooty right. 

And when the road forks, ary side, 

And you’re in doubt which one it is, 
Stand still, and let y’r conscience guide: 
Thank God! it can’t lead much amiss! 

And now, the road to church-yard gate 
You needn’t ask! Go anywhere! 

For, whether roundabout or straight, 

All roads, at last, ’ll bring you there. 


Go, fearin’ God, but lovin’ more— 

I’ve tried to be an honest guide,_ 

You’ll find the grave has got a door, 
And somethin’ for you t’other side. 































— $ I — 

I 


AND THE WISE. 



<¥> 



L 


BY CHARLES KINGSLEY. 



-* 0 <> 0 .-♦- 

■-llPlii Mar y, go and call the cattle home, 
And call the cattle home, 


And call the cattle home, 


Across the sands of Dee! ” 



And all alone went she. 



The creeping tide came up along th'e sand, 

And o’er and o’er the sand, 

And round and round the sand 
As far as eye could see; 

The blinding mist came down and hid the land— 
And never home came she. 

“ Oh, is it weed, or fish, or floating hair— 

A tress of golden hair, 

Of drowned maiden’s hair— 

Above the nets at sea? 

Was never salmon yet that shone so fair, 

Among: the stakes on Dee.” 

They rowed her in across the rolling foam, 

The cruel, crawling foam, 

The cruel, hungry foam— 

To her grave beside the sea; 

But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle 


home 

Across the sands of Dee. 




-o—£ 













































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 






ms Yom Can, 

Whatsoe’er you find to do, 

Do it, boys, with all your might! 
Never be a little true, 

Or a little in the right; 

Trifles even 
Lead to heaven, 

Trifles make the life of man; 

So in all things, 

Great or small things, 
Be as thorough as you can. 








Let no speck that surface dim— 
Spotless truth and honor bri ght! 
I’d not give a fig for him 

Who says that any lie is white! 
He who falters, 

Twists or alters 
Little atoms when he speaks, 
May deceive me, 

But believe me, 

To himself he is a sneak! 


f. 


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Help the weak if you are strong, 
Love the old if you are young, 
Own a fault if you are wrong, 

If you’re angry, hold your 


tongue. 


In each duty 
Lies a beautv, 




> o ■*§>— 


-Oj 

































5 °— 


AND THE WISE. 


—<§*-—°— 
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If your eyes you do not shut, 
Just as surely 
And securely 
As a kernel in a nut! 


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If you think a word will please, 

Say it, if it is but true; 

Words may give delight with ease 
When no act is asked from you; 
Words may often 
Soothe and soften, 

Gild a joy, or heal a pain; 

They are treasures 
Yielding pleasures 
It is wicked to retain. 


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Whatsoe’er you find to do, 

Do it, then, with all your might; 
Let your prayers be strong and 
true— 

Prayers, my lads, will keep you 
right. 

Prayer in all things, 

Great and small things, 
Like a Christian gentleman; 

And forever, 

Now or never, 

Be as thorough as you can. 



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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


BY T. BUCHANAN READ. 


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STOOD by the open casement 
And looked upon the night, 

And saw the westward-going stars 
Pass slowly out of sight. 


Slowly the bright procession 

Went down the gleaming arch, 
And my soul discerned the music 
Of their long triumphal march; 



Till the great celestial army, 

Stretching far beyond the poles, 
Became the eternal symbol 

Of the mighty march of souls. 

Onward, forever onward, 

Red Mars led down his clan; 

And the moon, like a mailed maiden, 
Was riding in the van. 


And some were bright in beauty, 

And some were faint and small, 

But these might be in their great height 
The noblest of them all. 


Downward, forever downward, 
Behind earth’s dusky shore 
They passed into the unknown ni ght, 
They passed, and were no more. 

No more! oh, say not so! 

And downward is not just; 



















































































AND THE WISE. 


■o- 


For the sight is weak, and the sense is dim 
That looks through heated dust. 



The stars and the mailed moon, 
Though they seem to fall and die, 
Still sweep with their embattled lines 
An endless reach of sky. 


And though the hills of death 
May hide the bright array, 

The marshaled brotherhood of souls 
Still keeps its upward way. 

Upward, forever upward, 

I see their march sublime, 

And hear the glorious music 
Of the conquerors of time. 

And long let me remember 
That the palest, fainting one 
May to diviner vision be 
A bright and blazing sun 



THE AGED STRANGER. 


BT BRET HABTE. 




2s9 


m WAS with Grant”— the stranger said; 
Ijf Said the farmer, “ Say no more, 

) if But rest thee here at my cottage porch, 
For thy feet are weary and sore.” 




i- 







































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 



“ I was with Grant”— the stranger said; 

Said the farmer, “ Nay, no more,— 

I prithee sit at my frugal board, 

And eat of my humble store. 



“ How fares my boy,—my soldier boy, 
Of the old Ninth Army Corps? 

I warrant he bore him gallantly 

In the smoke and the battle’s roar!” 


u I know him not,” said the aged man, 

“ And, as I remarked before, 

I was with Grant”— u Nay, nay, I know,” 
Said the farmer, “say no more; 




W 


“ He fell in battle,—I see, alas! 

Thou’dst smooth these tidings o’er— 
Nay, speak the truth, whatever it be, 
Though it rend my bosom’s core. 

“ How fell he,—with his face to the foe, 
Upholding the flag he bore? 

O say not that my boy disgraced 
The uniform that he wore!” 



“ I cannot tell,” said the a^red man, 

“ And should have remarked before, 
That I was with Grant—in Illinois— 
Some three years before the war.” 




Then the farmer spake him never a word, 
But beat with his fist full sore 
That aged man who had worked for Grant 
Some three years before the war. 



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E two will stand in the shadow here, 

To see the bride as she passes by; 

Ring soft and low, ring loud and clear, 

Ye chiming bells that swing on high! 

Look! look! she comes! The air grows sweet 
With the fragrant breath of the orange blooms, 
And the flowers she treads beneath her feet 
Die in a flood of rare perfumes. 

She comes! she comes! the happy bells 
With their joyous clamor fill the air, 

While the great organ dies and swells, 

Soaring to trembling heights of prayer! 

Oh! rare are her robes of silken sheen, 

And the pearls that gleam on her bosom’s snow: 
But rarer the grace of her royal mein, 

Her hair’s fine gold, and her cheek’s young glow. 


V 


Dainty and fair as a folded rose, 

Fresh as a violet dewy sweet, 

Chaste as a lily, she hardly knows 

That there are rough paths for other feet; 
For love hath shielded her; honor kept 
Watch beside her by night and by day, 


And evil out from her sight hath crept, 
Trailing with slow length far away. 


Now in her perfect womanhood, 

In all the wealth of her matchless charms, 
Lovely and beautiful, pure and good, 

She yields herself to her lover’s arms. 
Hark! how the jubilant voices ring. 


























THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 



Lo! as we stand in the shadow here, 
While far above us the gay bells swing 
I catch the gleam of a happy tear. 



The pageant is over. Come with me 
To the other side of the town, 1 pray, 

Ere the sun goes down in the darkening sea, 
And night falls around us, chill and gray. 

In the dim church porch an hour ago 
We waited the bride’s fair face to see; 

Now life has a sadder si^ht to show,— 

A darker picture for vou and me. 

No need to seek for the shadow here; 

There are shadows lurking everywhere; 

These streets in the brightest day are drear, 
And black as the blackness of despair. 

But this is the house. Take heed, my friend 
The stairs are rotten, the way is dim, 

And up the flights, as we still ascend, 

Creep stealthy phantoms dark and grim. 


Enter this chamber. Day by day, 

Alone in this chill and ghostly room 
A child—a woman—which is it, pray?— 
Despairingly waits for the hour of doom! 
Alas! as she wrings her hands so pale, 

No gleam of a wedding ring you see; 

There is nothing to tell. You know the tale,_ 

God help her now in her misery! 



I dare not judge her. I only know 
That love was to her a sin and a snare; 
While to the bride of an hour a^o 

O 

It brought all blessings its hands could bear 
















AND THE WISE. 


EH 


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I only know that to one it came 

Laden with honor, and joy and peace; 

Its gifts to the other were woe and shame, 

And a burning pain that shall never cease. 

I only know that the soul of one 
Had been a pearl in a golden case; 

That of the other a pebble thrown 
Idly down in a wayside place, 

Where all day long strange footsteps trod, 

And the bold, bright sun drank up the dew! 
Yet both were women. Oh, righteous God! 
Thou only can judge between the two! 


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BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER. 



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i^|EAR patient woman, o’er your children bending 
To leave a good-night kiss on rosy lips, 

Or list the simple prayer to God ascending 
~Ere slumber veil them in its soft eclipse, 

2 I wonder, do you dream that seraphs love you, 
And sometimes smooth the pathway for your 


«J 


feet; 

That ott their silvery pinions float above you, 
When life is tangled, and its cross-roads meet? 

So wan and tired, the whole long day so busy, 
To laugh or weep, at times, you hardly know. 
So many trifles make the poor brain dizzy, 

So many errands call you to and fro. 




































f&8 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


Small garments stitching, weaving fairy stories, 
And binding wounds, and bearing little cares, 
Your hours pass, unheeded all the glories 

Of that great world beyond your nursery stairs. 

One schoolmate’s pen has written words of beauty, 
Her poems sing themselves into the heart. 
Another’s brush has magic; you have duty; 

No time to spare for poetry or art, 

But only time for training little fingers, 

And teaching youthful spirits to be true; 

You know not with what famine woman lingers, 
With art alone to fill her, watching you. 

And yet, I think you’d rather keep the babies, 
Albeit their heads grow heavy on your arm, 
Than have the poet’s fair, enchanted mav-bes, 

The artist’s visions, rich with dazzling charm. 
Sweet are the troubles of the happy hours, 

For even in weariness your soul is blest, 

And rich contentment all your being dowers 
That yours is not a hushed and empty nest. 



THE FIRST SORROW. 





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-°s6V 


EAUTIFUL boy! so still to-night; 

Little pale face, ’twas once so bri ght; 

Weary mother, with tearful eye, 

Patiently hoping he will not die. 

Oh, there is no grief so deep and clear, 

None springs from the heart like a mother’s tear. 































r °——?-<« 


—=?*■ 


AND THE WISE. 


169 


Why wilt thou leave the bright green earth, 
When the sunshine and roses are bursting- forth. 
When joy and plenty are on the wing, 

Away to welcome the beautiful spring, 

And clouds of light from the crystal shore, 

Are gliding in at the window and'door? 


Why wilt thou go, my own sweet child? 
Is the world too cruel, too sin-defiled? 
Canst thou not venture thy spotless soul 
Where waves of the deepest color roll? 
Nor dare to launch thy little boat 
Sweet boy, on the waters unbound afloat? 


Ah! I have watched thee with jealous care, 
And wafted thy name on the wings of prayer; 
Have listened thy tones with earnest joy, 

And caressed thy form, my angel boy. 

Heaven wills it, I raise this test above, 

With the faith and trust of a mother’s love. 


Y 

Y 

A 



L AND BODY. 


BY ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE. 







BEFORE the beginning of years 

There came to the making of man 
Time, with a gift of tears; 

Grief, with a glass that ran; 
ejjjs Pleasure, with pain for leaven; 

«r* Summer, with flowers that fell; 
Remembrance fallen from heaven, 

And madness risen from hell; 


4 


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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


* 11 

3 


Strength without hands to smite; 

Love that endures for a breath; 

Night, the shadow of light, 

And life, the shadow of death. 

And the high gods took in hand 
Fire, and the falling of tears, 

And a measure of sliding sand 

From under the feet of the years; 

And froth and drift of the sea, 

And dust of the laboring earth; 

And bodies of things to be 

In the houses of death and of birth; 

And wrought with weeping and laughter, 
And fashioned with loathing and love, 
With life before and after, 

And death beneath and above, 

For a day and a night, and a morrow, 

That his strength might endure for a span 
With travail and heavy sorrow, 

The holy spirit of man. 

From the winds of the north and the south 
They gathered as unto strife; 

They breathed upon his mouth, 

They filled his body with life; 

Eyesight and speech they wrought 
For the veils of the soul therein, 

A time for labor and thought, 

A time to serve and to sin; 

They gave him light in his ways, 

And love, and a space for delight, 

And beauty, and length of days, 

And night, and sleep in the night. 

His speech is a burning fire, 




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AND THE WISE. 


161 


With his lips he travaileth; 

In his heart is a blind desire, 

In his eyes foreknowledge of death; 
He weaves, and is clothed with derision; 

Sows, and he shall not reap; 

His life is a watch or a vision 
Between a sleep and a sleep. 


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a- 


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A THUNDER 

BY SUSAN COOLIDGE. 

HE day was hot and the day was dumb, 
Save for the cricket’s chirr or the bee’s 
low hum, 

Not a bird was seen or a butterfly. 
And ever till noon was over, the sun 
Glared down with a yellow and ter¬ 
rible eye; 


Glared down in the woods, where the breathless boughs 
Hung heavy and faint in a languid drowse, 

And the ferns were curling with thirst and heat; 
Glared down on the fields where the sleepy cows 
Stood munching the grasses, dry and sweet. 

Then a single cloud rose up in the west, 

With a base of gray and a white, white crest; 

It rose and it spread a mighty wing, 

And swooped at the sun, though he did his best, 

And struggled and fought like a wounded thing. 

And the woods awoke, and the sleepers heard, 

Each heavily-hanging leaflet stirred 


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11 































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




With a little expectant quiver and thrill, 

As the cloud bent over and uttered a word— 

One volleying, rolling syllable. 

And once and again came the deep, low tone 
Which only to thunder’s lips is known, 

And the earth held up her fearless face, 

And listened as if to a signal blown— 

A signal-trump in some heavenly place. 

The trumpet of God, obeyed on high 
His signal to open the granary, 

And send forth his heavily-loaded wains, 
Rumbling and roaring down the sky, 

And scattering the blessed, long-harvested rains. 



BRINGS A 9 NAME. 




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• 0 ^ 0 * 



PON the hills the wind is sharp and cold, 

The sweet young grasses wither on the wold, 
And we, O Lord! have wandered from Thy fold; 
But evening brings us home. 

Among the mists we stumbled, and the rocks 
Where the brown lichen whitens, and the fox 
Watches the straggler from the scattered flocks; 
But evening brings us home. 


The sharp thorns prick us, and our tender feet 
Are cut and bleeding, and the lambs repeat 
Their pitiful complaints,—oh, rest is sweet 
When evening brings us home. 































HOME RETURNING, BUT NO WELCOME 


















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































AND THE WISE. 


We have been wounded by the hunter’s darts; 
Our eyes are very heavy, and our hearts 
Search for Thy coming, when the light departs, 
At evening bring us home. 



The darkness gathers. Through the gloom one star 
Rises to guide us. We have wandered far,— 
Without Thy lamp we know not where we are: 

At evening, bring us home. 

The clouds are round us, and the snowdrifts thicken; 
O thou, dear Shepherd! leave us not to sicken 
In the waste night, our tardy footsteps quicken; 

At evening bring us home. 


A efe A __^_<L 

$’392 Yr rf jy A 


A. 








BY ELLA WHEELER. 

DOUBT not but to every mind of mortal, 
That Heaven in a different form appears, 
And every one who hopes to pass the portal, 
Where God shall wipe away all bitter 
tears, 

Seeth the mansion in a separate guise, 

And there are many heavens to many eyes. 


To me, it seems a world where all the sweetness 
That I have in my wildest dreams conceived; 
The subtle beauty and the rare completeness 

That I have missed in life, and, missing, grieved; 
The things that I have sought for all my life, 

And if I found, found mixed with pain and strife. 


o- 


— 
























y°— --— 

164 THE BEAUTIFULt, THE WONDERFUL, 


That rest, that mortal mind can never measure; 

That peace, that we can never understand; 

The keen delights that fill the soul with pleasure; 

These, these I deem are what that blessed land 
Lying beyond the pearly gates doth hold,— 

Where the broad street is paved with shining gold. 

A total putting off of care and sorrow, 

As we put by old garments. Rest so deep 
That ’tis not marred by thoughts of the to-morrow, 
Or pained by tears, for never any weep. 

The love, unchangeable, unselfish, strong,— 

That I have craved, with heart and soul, so long. 

All these I hope, in that vast Forever, 

Of which we dream, nor mortal eye hath seen, 
When death’s pale craft shall bear me o’er the river, 
To find in waiting on the shores of green. 

And in that haven, how my soul shall raise, 
Unceasing songs of gratitude and praise. 



FOR A 9 THAT AND A 9 THAT 



BY ROBERT BURNS. 




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-«•- 


S there for honest poverty 

Wha hangs his head, and a’ that? 
The coward slave, we pass him by: 
We dare be poor for a’ that. 

For a’ that, and a’ that, 

Our toil’s obscure, and a’ that; 

The rank is but the guinea’s stamp,— 
The man’s the gowd for a’ that. 
























AND THE WISE. 


<► 


What though on hamely fare we dine, 
Wear hoddin gray, and a’ that? 

Gie fools their silks and knaves their wine, 
A man’s a man for a’ that. 

For a’ that, and a’ that, 

Their tinsel show, and a’ that; 

The honest man, though e’er sae poor, 

Is king o’ men for a’ that. 

Ye see )on birkie ca’d a lord, 

Wha struts and stares, and a’ that,— 

Though hundreds worship at his word, 
He’s but a coof for a’ that. 

For a’ that, and a’ that, 

His riband, star, and a’ that; 

The man of independent mind, 

He looks and laughs at a’ that. 

A prince can mak a belted knight, 

A marquis, duke and a’ that; 

But an honest man’s aboon his might,— 
Guid faith, he maunna fa’ that! 

For a’ that, and a’ that; 

Their dignities, and a’ that, 

The pith o’ sense, and pride o’ worth, 

Are higher ranks than a’ that. 

Then let us pray that come it may,— 

As come it will for a’ that,— 

That sense and worth, o’er a’ the earth, 
May bear the gree, and a’ that. 

For a’ that, and a’ that, 

It’s coming yet, for a’ that,— 

When man to man, the warld o’er, 

Shall brothers be for a’ that! 































hJh— 

i 

<T> 166 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




GONE TO THE 


BY M. C. A. 


( 9 ^& 



-))))>- 

UR boy has gone to the war, 

Our home is dark and dumb, 

O proudly he marched in the ranks, 
With bugle and beating drum. 

I sit with emptied hands ; 

I listen, and gaze afar; 

Life shrinks to a single thought, 

Our boy has gone to the war. 


I pray as thousands pra}* 

For darlings as dear as he, 

Our boy has gone to the war, 

O what is his fate to be ? 

O what is his fate to be; 

The death wound, the battle scar, 
The hospital couch, the wasting march, 
The glory, or woe of war! 

Our boy has gone to the war; 

I’m sorry the Spartan blood 
That should urge him bravely on, 

Runs low in my womanhood. 

I’m sorry the Spartan blood, 

Is fainting for life to live; 

Instead of the grand huzza, 

I’d only my tears to give. 

Our boy has gone to the war; 

In dream-hours long and lone, 

I lie and think on the soldier’s beat, 
How the midnight watch has flown. 





































AND THE WISE. 


In the chamber cool I weep 

To know I’m the sheltered one, 

While our brave boy marches with wounded feet, 
Under the piteous sun. 

My God! he has gone to the war! 

He marched away with the men; 

I gave him the ring from my hand, 

I blessed him, I kissed him—and then— 

Then , the record’s alone with God, 

The sacrament of pain, 

The anguish which said: For the land we love 
We give our lamb to be slain. 

O the marching, moaning men, 

O the brutal, bellowing guns, 

O the gory fields where the land lies red 
With the blood of her slaughtered sons! 

How long, O Lord, how long, 

How long before Thy Day? 

How long ere Thine angel of peace shall come, 
And brothers cease to slay ? 



BY HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD. 


- 50 “ 


JSHE sun comes up and the sun goes down, 

And day and night are the same as one; 

The year grows green, and the year grows brown 
And what is it all, when all is done? 

^'> Grains of somber or shining sand, 

[ Gliding into and out of the hand. 























o-«§>-£-<-< 

168 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


— 0 


And men go down in ships to the seas, 

And a hundred ships are the same as one; 

And backward and forward blows the breeze, 
And what is it all, when all is done? 

A tide with never a shore in sight, 

Setting steadily on to the night. 

The fisher droppeth his net in the stream, 
And a hundred streams are the same as one; 
And the maiden dreameth her love-lit dream, 
And what is it all, when all is done? 

The net of the fisher the burden breaks, 

And always the dreaming the dreamer wakes. 




BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD. 






Jf N the regular evening meeting 
™ That the church holds every week, 
One night a listening angel sat 
To hear them pray and speak. 


1 It puzzled the soul of the angel 

Why some to that gathering came, 
But sick and sinful hearts he saw, 
With grief and guilt aflame. 


They were silent, but said to the angel, 

“ Our lives have need of Him! ” * 

While doubt, with dull, vague, throbbing pain, 
Stirred through their spirits dim. 





















AND THE WISE. 




You could see ’twas the regular meeting, 

And the regular seats were filled, 

And all knew who would pray and talk, 

Though any one might that willed. 

From his place in front, near the pulpit, 

In his long-accustomed way, 

When the Book was read, and the hymn was sung 
The deacon arose to pray. 


First came the long preamble,— 

If Peter had opened so, 

He had been, ere the Lord his prayer had heard, 
Full fifty fathom below. 

Then a volume of information 
• Poured forth, as if to the Lord, 

Concerning his ways and attributes, 

And the things by him abhorred. 


But not in the list of the latte.r 

W as mentioned the mocking breath 
Of the hypocrite prayer that is not prayer, 

And the make-believe life in death. 

Then he prayed for the church; and the pastor; 

And that “ souls might be his hire,”— 
Whatever his stipend otherwise,— 

And the Sunday-school, and the choir; 

And the swarming hordes of India; 

And the perishing, vile Chinese; 

And the millions who bow to the Pope of Rome; 
And the pagan churches of Greece; 

And the outcast remnants of Judah, 

Of whose guilt he had much to tell— 































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 







He prayed, or he told the Lord he prayed, 
For everything out of hell. 



Now, if all that burden had really 
Been weighing upon his soul, 

’Twould have sunk him through to the China side, 
And raised a hill over the hole. 

* * * * * * 

’Twas the regular evening meeting, 

And the regular prayers were made; 

But the listening angel told the Lord 
That only the silent prayed. 







UNFINISHED STILL . 

. _ — 

BABY’S boot and a skein of wool 
f//.v,v> Faded, and soiled and soft; 

Odd things, you say, and no doubt you’re.right, 
• Round a seaman’s neck this stormy night, 
j/gy Up in the yards aloft. 

Most like it’s folly; but, mate, look here: 

When first I went to sea, 

A woman stood on the far-off strand, 

With a wedding-ring on the small, soft hand, 
Which clung so close to me. 

My wife—God bless her! The day before, 

She sat beside mv foot; 

And the sunlight kissed her yellow hair, 

And the daint}^ fingers, deft and fair, 

Knitted a baby’s boot. 







<s> 





























AND THE WISE. 


m 


The voyage was over; I came ashore; 

What, think you, found I there? 

A grave the daisies had sprinkled white, 
A cottage empty and dark as night, 

And this beside the chair. 


The little boot, ’twas unfinished still; 

The tangled skein lay near; 

But the knitter had gone away to rest, 
With the babe asleep on her quiet breast, 
Down in the church-yard drear. 


e_^JaLs_s 

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o 4 


HI END me,—if but a rose-leaf,—still a token 
To tell me what your lips have left unspoken, 
^ That you are sorry that my heart is broken, 
Before I die. 


• 0^0 


For soon your silence will no more perplex me, 
And soon your coldness will have ceased to vex me, 
Although I cling unto the rock that wrecks me, 
Until I die. 


T 

1 


Ziri o- 


And presently my heart will cease its grasping, 
And presently my breath will cease its gasping, 
And I shall sink beyond your tardy clasping, 
For I shall die. 


Ah! you have left me who did never leave you, 
And you have slain me who did never grieve you, 
But I, at least, at least I can forgive you, 

Before I die. 


— 



















0 — 

m 


*>-§“«§=■- O 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


4A0 


A FRAGMENT. 


BY L. N. CHAPIN. 


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l «S > , ••'*■ ’ A %“ «* *' / 

sTp/j^iUa - *“■ 


N Hellas, many and many a year ago, 

Sat stately Athens on her lofty crest; 

A sentinel height above the AEgean flow 
V|V Of countless nations nourished at her breast. 
Here rose the Acropolis, 
and there the Parthenon, 

The proudest marble pile 
that the Attic sun shone y 
on, 

While yonder, roundly blown into the 
solid stone, 

Afar the splendid Dyonisiac bubble 
shone. 

Here learning, art and science found a 
seat; 

And wise philosophy enjoyed a favor- „ 
ite retreat. 

Wide o’er the empire of the mind 
Esthetic culture, subtle 
and refined, - 

Held free domain, and 
broad intelligence 
Diffused its keen de¬ 
lights through every sense. 

Here, too, the lofty Powers that rule 
The formal policies of state and school— 

The gods that kept the inward state at peace, 

And ruled the glorious destinies of Greece, 

Thronged the broad halls, diffused through all the place, 
And lent to ancient Athens her most distinguished e-race. 

































-A--* 


<?> 


AND fPHE WISE. 


BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 




yx> 





^ ANNOUNCED by all the trumpets of the sky, 
Arrives the snow; and, driving o’er the fields, 
Seems nowhere to alight; the whited air 
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the 
heaven, 

And veils the farmhouse at the garden’s end. 
The sled and traveler stopped, the courier’s 
feet 

Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit 
Around the radiant fireplace, inclosed 
In a tumultuous privacy of storm. 

Come, see the north wind’s masonry! 

Out of an unseen quarry, evermore 
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer 
Curves his white bastions with projected roof 
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door; 
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work 
So fanciful, so savage; naught cares he 
For number or proportion. Mockingly, 

On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths; 

A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn; 
Fills up the farmer’s lane from wall to wall, 
Maugre the farmer’s sighs; and at the gate 
A tapering turret o’ertops the work. 

And when his hours are numbered, and the 
world 

Is all his own, retiring as he were not, 

Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art 
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone, 
Built in an age, the mad wind’s night-work, 
The frolic architecture of the snow. 


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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


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BY WILLIAM COLLINS. 




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MOW sleep the brave, who sink to rest 
By all their country’s wishes blest! 
?g(| When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, 
Returns to deck their hallowed mold, 
She there shall dress a sweeter sod 
Than Fancy’s feet have ever trod. 

By fairy hands their knell is rung; 

By forms unseen their dirge is sung; 
There Honor comes a pilgrim gray, 

To bless the turf that wraps their clay; 
And Freedom shall a while repair, 

To dwell, a weeping hermit there! 







BY EDGAR ALLAN POE. 


3-P- 


[The following 1 poem has justly been mentioned as one of Poe’s best. It describes a 
certain dramatic experience quite too common at the present day. Who can tell what 
that experience is?] 


aft 




• 0 ^ 0 . 




'N the greenest of our valleys, 

By good angels tenanted, 

% Once a fair and stately palace— 

Radiant palace—reared its head. 
In the monarch thought’s dominion- 
It stood there! 

Never Seraph spread a pinion 
Over fabric half so fair! 


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AND THE WISE. 


Banners yellow, glorious golden, 

On its roof did float and flow, 

This—all this—was in the olden 
Time long ago, 

And every gentle air that dallied. 

In that sweet day, 

Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, 
A winged odor went away. 




Wanderers in that happy valley, 

Through two luminous windows, saw 
Spirits moving musically, 

To a lute’s well-tuned law, 

Round about a throne where, sitting, 
Porphyrogene! 

In state his glory well befitting, 

The ruler of the realm, was seen. 

And all with pearl and ruby glowing 
Was the fair palace door, 

Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing, 
And sparkling evermore, 

A troop of echoes, whose sweet duty 
Was but to sing, 

In voices of surpassing beauty, 

The wit and wdsdom of their king. 


But evil things, in robes of sorrow, 
Assailed the monarch’s high estate. 
Ah, let us mourn!—for never morrow 
Shall dawn upon him desolate! 

And round about his home the glory 
That blushed and bloomed, 

Is but a dim-remembered story 
Of the old time entombed. 




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y 1^6 THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


And travelers, now, within that valley, 
Through the red-litten windows see 
Vast forms that move fantastically 
To a discordant melody; 

While, like a ghastly rapid river, 
Through the pale door 
A hideous throng rush out forever, 

And laugh—but smile no more. 







^5 


On the Death of a Favorite Cat « 



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HE died when earth was fair beyond all price, 

When hearts were warm as her own coat of silk; 
When people’s houses seemed the homes of mice, 
And when life’s cup, for her, o’erflowed with milk. 
Reared tenderly, she spent her few brief years, 

Like cats in Egypt,—sacred, free from fears— 
Weep not for her! 

Weep not for her! she’s had a peaceful time; 

She might have been a sausage long ago,— 

A muff, a fiddle-string; but to her prime 
She hath arrived with an unruffled brow; 

Shielded as if she had but one sweet life 
Instead of nine,—kept from all care and strife,— 
Weep not for her! 

Weep not for her! she’s now a cat with wings; 

Perhaps a dweller in the milky-^N&y ; 

Purring with joy amid all purring things; 

No longer blinded with the light of day; 


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AND THE WISE. 


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Where boys are not, nor stones, nor tears, nor sighs 
All dogs forever banished from her eyes,— 

Weep not for her! 




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Weep not: for her! her memory is the shrine 
Of pleasant thoughts, pure as a kitten’s dream; 
Calm as her own washed face at day’s decline; 

Soft as the scent of catnip; rich as cream. 

Then lay her under ground all snug and nice, 

For, like the “ Puss in Boots,” she’ll catch no mice— 
Weep not for her! 

Weep not for her! there is no cause for woe, 

But nerve the drooping spirit that it walk 
Unshrinking in this ratty world below, 

And bear life’s ills; thy tears can’t call her back. 
Thou’It meet her when thy fleeting years have flown, 
With radiant whispers in that brighter home— 
Weep not for her! 





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BY WILL M CARLETON. 


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j|p[OOD folks ever will have their way— 

(tffblnF Good folks ever for it must pay. 

V \\y 

But we, who are here and everywhere, 
A The burden of their faults must bear. 

9 5 

U We must shoulder others’ shame— 

Fight their follies and take their blame; 




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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 



Purge the body, and humor the mind; 
Doctor the eves when the soul is blind; 

Build the column of health erect 
On the quicksands of neglect. 

Always shouldering others’ shame— 
Bearing their faults and taking the blame! 

-- 

Deacon Rogers, he came to me,— 

“ Wife is goin’ to die,” said he. 

“ Doctors great,’an’ doctors small, 

Haven’t improved her any at all. 

“ Physic and blister, powders and pills, 
And nothing sure but the doctors’ bills! 

“Twenty old women, with remedies new, 
Bother my wife the whole day through; 

“ Sweet as honey, or bitter as gall— 

Poor old woman, she takes ’em all; 

“ Sour or sweet, whatever they choose! 
Poor old woman, she daren’t refuse. 

“So she pleases whoe’er may call, 

An’ death is suited the best of all. 

“ Physic an’ blister, powder an’ pill_ 

Bound to conquer, and sure to kill!” 

-- 

Mrs. Rogers lay in her bed, 

Bandaged and blistered from foot to head. 








































































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AND THE WISE. 


Blistered and bandaged from head to toe, 
Mrs. Rogers was very low. 


179 


Bottle and saucer, spoon and cup, 

On the table stood bravely up; 

Physics of high and low degree; 

Calomel, catnip, boneset tea; 

Everything a body could bear, 

Excepting light, and water, and air. 

♦ 

I opened the blinds; the day was bright, 
And God gave Mrs. Rogers some light. 

I opened the window; the day \yas fair, 
And God gave Mrs. Rogers some air. 

Bottles and blister, powders and pills, 
Catnip, boneset, syrups and squills— 

Drugs and medicines, high and low, 

I threw them as far as I could throw. 

“ What are you doing?” my patient cried; 
“ Frightening Death,” I coolly replied. 

“You are crazy!” a visitor said; 

I Hung a bottle at her head. 

o 

-^- 

Deacon Rogers, he came to me; 

“Wife is cornin’ round,” said he. 

“I really think she will worry through: 
She scolds me just as she used to do. 

“All the people have poohed an’ slurred— 
All the neighbors have had their word; 
















































O-■§*—§■ 

ISO 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


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u ’Twere better to perish, some of ’em say, 
Than be cured in such an irregular way.” 

-4- 


u Your wife,” said I, “ had God’s good care, 
And his remedies—light and water and 
air. 


li All the doctors, beyond a doubt, 
Couldn’t have cured Mrs. Rogers with¬ 
out.” 

- Or - 

9 

The deacon smiled, and bowed his head, 
“ Then your bill is nothing,” he said. 

ct God’s be the glory as you say! 

God bless you doctor! good day! good 
day!” ‘ 


If ever I doctor that woman again, 
I’ll give her medicine made by men. 




A CHANGE. 


HE hills are white that yester night, 
Stood wrapt in autumn’s gray; 

And from the town comes gliding - down. 
The summer-idle sleigh. 

o * 


On nimble heels the filly wheels 
To shake her blood aflow, 

And nettled kine with bended spine, 
Range down the stanchion row. 



















AND THE WISE. 




The fog-line stretching o’er the fields, 
The brooklet’s winding path reveals; 
And closer to his homeless breast, 

The vagrant draws his scanty vest. 



Across the lake the breakers break 
The gathering icy fringe; 

And winter’s door, o’er flood and shore, 
Creaks on its frosted hinge. 







A T HOME ? 


,„ACH day, when the glow of sunset 
fM Fades in the western sky, 

And the wee ones, tired of playing, 
Go tripping lightly by, 

/k I steal away from my husband, 

'p Asleep in his easy chair, 

And watch from the open doorway, 
Their faces fresh and fair. 


Alone in the dear old homestead 
That once was full of life, 

Ringing with girlish laughter, 

Echoing boyish strife, 

We two are waiting together, 

And oft, as the shadows come, 

With tremulous voice he calls me, 

44 It is night! Are the children home?” 

44 Yes, love,” I answer him gently, 

44 They’re all home long ago;”— 


































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




<► 


And I sing, in my quavering treble, 
A song so soft and low, 

Till the old man drops to slumber, 
With his head upon his hand, 
And I tell to myself the number, 
Home in the Better Land. 


Home where never a sorrow 
Shall dim their eyes with tears! 
Where the smile of God is on them 
Through all the summer years! 

And I know!—yet my arms are empty, 
That fondly folded seven, 

And the mother heart within me 
Is almost starved for heaven. 


Sometimes, in the dusk of evening, 

I only shut my eyes, 

And the children are all about me, 

A vision from the skies; 

The babes whose dimpled fingers 
Lost the way to my breast, 

And the beautiful ones, the angels, 
Passed to the world of the blessed. 


With never a cloud upon them, 

I see their radiant brows; 

My boys that I gave to freedom,— 
The red sword sealed their vows. 

In a tangled Southern forest, 

Twin brothers bold and brave, 
They fell, and the flag they died for, 
Thank God, floats over their grave! 

A breath, and the vision is lifted 
Away on wings of light, 




























■O' 


AND THE WISE. 




And again we two are together, 

All alone in the night. 

They tell me his mind is failing, 

But I smile at idle fears; 

He is only back with the children, 

In the dear and peaceful years. 

And still, as the summer sunset 
Fades away in the west, 

And the wee ones, tired of playing, 

Go trooping home to rest, 

My husband calls from his corner, 

« Say, love, have the children come?” 
And I answer, with eyes uplifted, 

“Yes, dear! they are all at home.” 


-<o- 


A 




A 


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BY JOHN JAMIESON, M. D. 


EAD—and my heart died with him! 
Buried—what love lies there! 
Gone forever and ever, 

No longer my life to share! 
“Only a dog!” Yes—only! 

Yet these are bitter tears! 

Weary, and heartsick, and lonely, 

I turn to the coming years. 


Something that always loved me! 

Something that I could trust! 
Something that cheered and soothed me, 




















-- 

THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, ? 


Is moldering here to dust! 

Gentle, and faithful, and noble— 
Patient, and tender, and brave— 
My pet, my playmate, my darling— 
And this is his lonely grave. 

I go to my lonely chamber, 

And linger before the door— 
There once was a loving welcome— 
I shall listen for that no more! 

I sit by my blazing hearthstone, 

And lean my head on my hand— 
The best of my wayward nature 
Lies low with the Newfoundland! 


One plank—when the ship was sinking 
In a wild and stormy sea— 

One star when the sky was darkened, 
Was the love of my dog to me! 

A star that will shine no longer— 

A plank that has missed my hand; 
And the ship may sail or founder— 

No watcher is on the strand. 

I stand on my sunny uplands, 

This beautiful autumn morn— 

The crimson-leaved maple o’er me, 
Fronting the golden corn; 

I hear the brook in the valley— 

It sings as it sang of yore— 

But the faithful eyes that watched it 
Will answer to mine no more! 



Over those sunny uplands, 

And climbing the breezy hill, 

I haunt the depth of the woodland, 



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AND THE WISE. 


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Lonely and silent still— 

Silent and lonely always, 

I know that this life may be— 

But in the unseen future— 

What is in store for me? 

Oh, well mav the Indian hunter 
Lie calm on his couch of skins 
When the pain of this world ceases, 
And the joy of the next begins! 

On the “ Great Spirit’s” prairies, 
Under the blue skies of yore, 

Will not his stud and watch-dog 
Answer his call once more? 

Blue hunting grounds of the red man, 
Cannot I dream the dream? 

Surely my old companion 

But waits till I cross the stream? 
Waits with a faithful yearning, 
Almost akin to pain— 

Till in some lesser heaven 
He boimds to my feet again. 


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BY ELLA WHEELER. 







L4 AUGH, and the world laughs with you; 


Weep, and you weep alone. 

For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, 
But has trouble enough of its own. 

Sing, and the hills will answer; 

Sigh, it is lost on the air. 





























































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




The echoes bound to a joyful sound, 
But shrink from voicing care. 


Rejoice, and men will seek you; 

Grieve, and they turn and go. 

They want full measure of all your pleasure, 
But they do not need your woe. 

Be glad, and your friends are many; 

Be sad, and you lose them all; 

There are none to decline your nectared wine, 
But alone you must drink life’s gall. 


Feast, and your halls are crowded; 

Fast, and the world goes by. 

Succeed and give, and it helps you live, 
But no man can help you die. 

There is room in the halls of pleasure 
For a large and lordly train, 

But one by one we must all file on 
Through the narrow aisles of pain. 






BY JAMES G. CLARK. 




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H-IPERE’S a land far away, ’mid the stars we are told, 

Where they know not the sorrows of Time_ 

Where the pure waters wander through valleys of gold, 
And life is a treasure sublime: 

’Tis the land of our God, ’tis the home of the soul, 

Where the ages of splendor eternally roll_ 

Where the way-weary traveler reaches his goal, 

On the evergreen Mountains of Life. 


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MASTER BUILDERS 






































































































































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AND THE WISE. 


1SV 


Our gaze cannot soar to that beautiful land, 

But our visions have told of its bliss. 

And our souls by the gale from its gardens are fanned, 
When we faint in the desert of this; 

And we sometimes have longed for its holy repose, 

When our spirits were torn with temptations and woes, 
And we’ve drank from the tide of the river that flows 
From the evergreen Mountains of Life. 

O! the stars never tread the blue heavens at night, 

But we think where the ransomed have trod,— 

And the day never smiles from his palace of light, 

But we feel the bright smile of our God; 

We are traveling homeward through changes and gloom, 
To a kingdom where pleasures unceasingly bloom, 

And our guide is the glory that shines through the tomb , 
From the evergreen Mountains of Life. 



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BY BRET HARTE. 


[“After the men were ordered to lie down, a white rabbit, which had been hopping 
hither and thither over the field swept by grape and musketry, took refuge among the skir¬ 
mishers, in the breast of a corporal.”— Report of ike battle of Malvern Hill.'} 

_— 

nUNNY, lying in the grass, 
jgJI Saw the shining columns pass, 

Saw the starry banner fly, 
qJ Saw the chargers fret and fume, 

Saw the flapping hat and plume; 

Saw them with his moist and shy, 

Most unspeculative eye, 

Thinking only, in the dew, 



to - 


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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 





That it was a fine review— 

Till a flash, not all of steel, 

Where the rolling caisson’s wheel 
Brought a rumble and a roar 
Rolling down that velvet floor, 
And like blows of autumn flail 
Sharply threshed the iron hail. 

Bunny, thrilled by unknown fears, 
Raised his soft and pointed ears, 
Mumbled his prehensile lip, 
Quivering his pulsating hip, 

As the sharp, vindictive yell 
Rose above the screaming shell; 
Thought the world and all its men, 
All the charging squadrons meant, 
All were rabbit hunters then, 

All to capture him intent. 

Bunny was not much to blame; 
Wiser folk have thought the same— 
Wiser folk, who think they spy 
Every ill begins with “I.” 



Wildly panting here and there, 
Bunny sought the freer air, 

’Till he hopped below the hill, 
And saw, lying close and still, 
Men with muskets in their hands. 
(Never bunny understands 
That hypocrisy of sleep, 

In the vigils grim they keep, 

As recumbent on the spot 
They elude the level shot.) 

One—a grave and quiet man, 
Thinking of his wife and child 











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AND THE WISE. 


But you have guessed the rest. 
Softly o’er that chosen pair 
Omnipresent love and care 
Drew a mightier hand a,nd arm, 
Shielding them from everv harm; 
Right and left the bullets waved, 
Saves the saviour for the saved. 


Who believes but equal grace 
God extends in every place, 

Little difference he scans 
’Twixt a rabbit’s God and man’s. 


The Virginians of the 


BY FRANCIS O. TICKNOR. 





IS 9 


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Far beyond the Rapidan, 

Where the Androscoggin smiled— 
Felt the little rabbit creep, 

Nestling by his arm and side. 
Wakened from strategic sleep, 

To that soft appeal replied, 

D rew him to his blackened breast, 
And— 


HE knightliest of the knightly race 
Who, since the days of old, 

Have kept the lamp of chivalry 
Alight in hearts of gold; 

The kindliest of the kindly band, 

Who, rarely hating ease, 

Yet rode with Raleigh round the land, 
And Smith around the seas; 


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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


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190 




Who climbed the blue embattled hills, 
Against uncounted foes, 

And planted there in valleys fair 
The lily and the rose; 

Whose fragrance lives in many lands, 
Whose beauty stars the earth, 

And lights the hearths of happy homes 
With loveliness and worth. 



We thought they slept! the sons who kept 
The names of noble sires, 

And slumbered while the darkness crept 
Around their vigil fires; 

But still the golden horseshoe knights 
Their old dominion keep, 

Whose foes have found enchanted ground, 
But not a knight asleep. 



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THE BELOVED CITY. 


it 


'N the Beloved City 

The glory doth abide; 

Ip* ’Tis aye the summer of the year— 
The height of summer-tide; 

It is the long-lost Eden clime, 

Whose beauty doth not die; 
j The palmy prime and flower of time, 
Touched with eternity. 


Oh! the Beloved City, 

That peace and justice bless! 

City of our solemnities! J, 

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AND THE WISE. 


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Mountain of holiness! 


The Zion of the lofty One— 

The light of Beulah’s land— 

There David’s throne and flowering crown 
Shall through the ages stand! 

Hail to the Holy City, 

Passing the Patmos dream. 

The soul-desired city— 

J 

The New Jerusalem. 




BY GEORGE HENRY BOKER. 




tv", What to him is friend or foeman 
Rise of moon or set of sun, 


Hand of man or kiss of woman? 
Lay him low, lay him low, 

In the clover or the snow! 


What cares he? he cannot know; 
Lay him low. 


I 


As man may, he fought his fight, 
Proved his truth by his endeavor; 
Let him sleep in solemn night, 

Sleep forever and forever. 

Lay him low, lay him low, 

In the clover or the snow! 

What cares he? he cannot know; 


Lay him low! 


Fold him in his country’s stars, 

Roll the drum and fire the volley! 






















THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


What to him are all our wars?— 
What but death-bemocking folly? 
Lay him low, lay him low, 

In the clover or the snow! 

What cares he? he cannot know; 
Lay him low! 



Leave him to God’s watching eye; 

Trust him to the hand that made him. 
Mortal love weeps idly by; 

God alone has power to aid him. 

Lay him low, lay him low, 

In the clover or the snow! 

What cares he? he cannot know; 
Lay him low! 


—<o- 


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BY T. BUCHANAN READ. 


■flOBED like an abbess 

| The snowy earth lies, 

I While the red sundown 

Fades out of the skies. 

^ Up walks the evening, 

| Veiled like a nun, 
a . 

T Telling her starry beads, 
One by one. 


c . 

i > 



Where like the billows 
The shadowy hills lie, 

Like a mast the great pine swings 
Against the bright sky. 




















AND THE WISE 


-<o- 


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Down in the valley 

The distant lights quiver, 
Gilding the hard-frozen * 

Face of the river. 

While o’er the hill tops 
The moon pours her ray, 
Like shadows the skaters 
Skirr wildly away; 

Whirling and gliding. 

Like summer-clouds fleet, 
They flash the white lightning 
From glittering feet. 

The icicles hang 

On the front of the falls, 
Like mute horns of silver 
On shadowy walls; 

Horns that the wild huntsman, 
Spring, shall awake, 

Down flinging the loud blast 
Toward river and lake! 






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a 




BY II. W. LONGFELLOW. 


m J ARL AN DS upon his grave, 

And flowers upon his hearse, 
And to the tender heart and brave 
The tribute of this verse. 

His was the troubled life, 

The conflict and the pain 


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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




<♦> 


The grief, the bitterness of strife, 
The honor without stain. 


Like Winkelried, he took 
Into his manly breast, 

The sheaf of hostile spears, and broke 
A path for the oppressed; 

Then from the fatal field 
Upon a nation’s heart 

Borne like a warrior on his shield!— 

So should the brave depart. 

Death takes us by surprise, 

And stays our hurrying feet; 

The great design unfinished lies, 

Our lives are incomplete. 

But in the dark unknown 
Perfect their circles seem, 

Even as a bridge’s arch of stone 
Is rounded in the stream. 

Alike are life and death, 

When life and death survives, 

And the uninterrupted breath 
Inspires a thousand lives. 

Were a star quenched on high, 

For ages would its light, 

Still traveling downward from the sky, 
Shine on our mortal sisdit. 

So when a great man dies, 

For years bevond our ken. 

The light he leaves beyond him lies 
Upon the paths of men. 














































































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CQoi^avian F^ymns. 


&&^Ej z, °£z"J°\’7i c —<»-^§. ~ J '\ 

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®-»>~®«£!A9Se' 



[The old Moravians sang songs on every occasion. All their work was set to music. 
Bishop Spangenberg, writing in 1746, about the “brethren and sisters of Nazareth,” says: 
“ Never, since the creation of the world, were there made and sung such lovely and 
holy shepherds’ plowing, reaping, threshing, spinners’, knitters’, sewers,’ washers’ and 
other laboring hymns, as by these people.” We append two specimens:] 


WATCHMAN'S SONG . 

Lf IE still in the darkness, 
Sleep safe in the night; 


The Lord is a Watchman, 
The Lamb is a L ight. 

Jehovah, He holdeth 
The sea and the land, 

The earth in the hollow 
Of His mighty hand. 

All’s well! in the darkness, 
All’s well! in the night; 

The Lord is a Watchman, 
The Lamb is a Light. 

Awake! Day is dawning! 
The Lamb is the Light. 

The Lord has a vineyard, 
H is harvests are white. 

Jehovah, He holdeth 
By sea and by land, 

His saints in the hollow 
Of His mighty hand. 

Awake! It is morning, 

The Lamb is the Light. 

The Lord has a vineyard, 
His harvest is white. 


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PERRYMAN'S SONG . 

J^OWNWARD current, I shall 
stem thee; 

In Jehovah’s name restrain thee; 
Rushing water, seek the sea, 
Yonder green shore lureth me. 
Banks of Canaan, Jesus’ land, 
Where the singing angels stand. 
Downward current, vain to draw 
me, 

In Jehovah’s name I stay me; 
Rushing water, seek the sea, 
Yonder green shore lureth me. 

Downward current, like my sin¬ 
ning; 

Out of thee I win my winning; 
Sinners seek the burning sea; 
Heaven’s green shore lureth me; 
Banks of Canaan, Jesus’ land, 
Where the singing angels stand. 
Downward current, vain to draw 
me! 

In Jehovah’s name I stay me; 
From the sinner’s burning sea 
Christ the Saviour saveth me. 


6 


■§>—^ 






















THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


CURIOUS LITERARY 


[The following is one of the most remarkable compositions ever written. It evinces 
an ingenuity peculiarly its own. The initial letters spell “ My boast is in the glorious 
cross of Christ.” The words in italic, when read on the left-hand side from top to bottom, 
and on the right-hand side from bottom to top, form the Lord’s Prayer complete:] 





AKE known the gospel truth, our Father King; 

Yield up Thy grace, dear Father , from above; 

Bless us with hearts which feelingly can sing: 

“ Our life Thou art for ever, God of Love.” 

Assuage our grief in love for Christ, we pray, 

Since the Prince of Heaven and Glory died, 

Took all sins and hallowed the display, 

Infinite being, first man, and then was crucified. 
Stupendous God! Thy grace and power make known; 

In Jesus’ name let all the world rejoice, 

Now labor in Thy Heavenly kingdom own, 

That blessed kingdom, for Thy saints the choice. 
How vile to come to Thee is all our cry; 

Enemies to Thyself and all that’s Thine \ 

Graceless our will, we live for vanity; 

Loathing the very being, evil in design— 

O God, Thy will be done from earth to Heaven; 

Reclining on the gospel let us live, 

In earth from sin deliver ed and forgiven. 

o 

Oh! as Thyself, but teach us to forgive; 

Unless its power temptation doth destroy, 

Sure is our fall into the depths of woe. 

Carnal in mind, we have not a glimpse of jov 
Raised against Heaven', in us no hope we know. 

O give us grace, and lead us on the way; 

Shine on us with Thy love, and give us peace. 

Self, and this sin that rises against us, slay, 

Oh, grant each day our trespasses may cease; 


s o — 


-o r 











AND THE WISE. 






197 


Forgive ozir evil deeds, that oft we do; 

Convince us daily of them, to our shame; 
Help us with Heavenly bread, forgive us, too, 
Recurrent lusts; and we'W adore Thy name. 
In Thy forgive ness we as saints can die, 

Since for us and our trespasses so high, 

Thy Son, our Saviour, died on Calvary. 


A <5fe A €fc> A A . _A_ & _ 


_! P <=$=> ^ ? 





<*> 


BY ROBERT HERRICK. 



S this a fast, to keep 
The larder leane, 

And cleane 

From fat of veales and sheep? 


V 

eljU 

<► 


Is it to quit the dish 
Of flesh, yet still 
To fill 


The platter high with fish? 


Is it to fast an hour, 

Or rag’d to go, 

Or show 

A downcast look, and soure? 


No, ’tis a fast lo dole 
Thy sheaf of wheat, 
And meat, 

Unto the hungry soule. 











































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




19$ 


It is to fast from strife, 

From old debate 
And hate; 

To circumcise thy life. 

To show a heart grief-rent; 
To starve thy sin, 

Not bin; 

And that’s to keep thy Lent. 





OD’S lilies droop about the world, 

In sweetness everywhere: 

They are the maiden-souls who learn 
•/ 

To comfort and to bear, 

And to smile upon the heavy cross 
That every one must wear. 


O lilies, beautiful and meek! 

They know God’s will is right, 
And so they raise their patient heads 
In dark and stormy night, 

And far above the eastern hills 
They see the dawn of light. 



They know that when their day is done 
And deep the shadow lies, 

The cross will weary them no more; 

So lightly they arise 
To meet the angels when they call, 
u Lilies of Paradise! ” 


— 0 


















AND IFHE WISE 


ANONYMOUS. 

JfMC HEN shall wc all meet again? 
When shall we all meet 
*<$f again? 

T Oft shall glowing hope expire, 
Oft shall wearied love retire, 

Oft shall death and sorrow reign, 
Ere we all shall meet again. 


Though in distant lands we sigh, 
Parched beneath a hostile sky; 
Though the deep between us rolls, 
Friendship shall unite our souls. 
Still in Fancy’s rich domain 
Oft shall we all meet again. 


. ^ ur ea m s c 
,ts Wasted l a , 

" C °W oblivi, 

Power, and f. 

' n ' n0rtal S P<> 
aU vve all m , 
























THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




~ *«•-><> ^ home; 

i % * , wo rW, Vm S° Qt thine- 

n Cmy «U » 1 roam ’ 

Ton" 1 throug^e'oce* *£drW«“ foam, 

, bve to Flattery a grnoace, 

G ood-b) e ith h is __■ 

To Grandeur _ <^\TVfU 


, aver 


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•ted eye 
tdhig^ 


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r ^J , u pp\e °T fw to court ana. 

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hearth-stone, 

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\ spot that ■ wan honre, 

t am sate m X ^ eC Q and 1 w ne s, 

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ftlead on « ?' fetchedhen 
And whe” nin g star ri de of m \ . 

Where at the lore and ‘" d \he 'f“ n “ nce lt, , 

1 tans hist schoo then h’S meet- 

M *hat P are they a ; it h God m y_ 

For „an in the - 

When .- 



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a]iihi iiiiiiiiii»imiii n 




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SOME OP THE GREAT BRIDGES . 

HE spanning of great rivers by means of bridges, ranks 
among the noblest enterprises of man. And bridges, like 
cathedrals, have, in all ages, been the points about which the 
histories of nations have focalized. While under them flow 
mighty rivers, over them have flowed the countless currents 
of the nations. There are bridges in Europe, across which 
millions of men have marched in wars. They are the high¬ 
way of nations. 

In bridges, as in almost everything else, China antedates the rest 
of the world, having a chain suspension bridge of 330 feet, built in A. 
D. 65. But there are plenty of bridges in Europe that are the con¬ 
tributions of the earlier and the middle ages. Who has not heard of 
the Old London Bridge, built in 1176, which was like one continuous 
block of buildings, and whose twenty massive arches within a distance 
of 940 feet, filled up nearly half the river Thames? Or of the 
« Bridge of the Holy Trinity,” the beautiful white marble structure 
over the Arno at Florence, which, though built in 1569, stands to-day 
unrivaled as a work of art? Who, indeed, has not heard of that his¬ 
toric structure at Venice, the Rialto, designed by Michael Angelo, 
and beneath which for 300 years, has rowed “ the songless gondolier?” 
— nor of that other, within the same city, the famous “Bridge of 
Sighs,” to the memorializing of which for ages, countless poets have 
lent a hand. 


[203] 































































































































































2G4 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


BRITANNIA TUBULAR BRIDGE. —Notable among the works 
of Great Britain is the u Britannia Tubular Bridge.” This bridge is 
one of the most gigantic works of modern engineering. It crosses 
the Menai Straits. The entire bridge is formed of immense rectang¬ 
ular tubes of iron, 26 feet high in the center, 14 feet wide, and having 
an entire length of 1,513 feet. It is more than 100 feet above water. 
So great is the strength of the bridge, that a train weighing 280 tons> 
running at high speed, deflects the tubes in their centers less than 
three-fourths of an inch. The entire weight of the tubes is 10,500 
tons. Two of the spans are 460 feet each. It is said that the same 
amount of iron in a solid bar would not sustain its own weight. A 
similar English bridge is the u Conway,” which has a span of 400 
feet. 

VICTORIA BRIDGE. —This wonderful bridge, the largest of its 
kind in the world, is of the same pattern as the Britannia—namely, 
tubular. It is over the St. Lawrence, at Montreal, Canada. It is a 
railway bridge, two miles long, and cost over $5,000,000. It contains 
10,500 tons of iron and 3,000,000 cubic feet of masonry. 

In our own country the number of noble bridges is rapidly increas¬ 
ing. It is an age of giants in engineering. A remarkable wooden 
bridge is that across the Susquehanna at Havre de Grace, a railwav 
bridge 3,271 feet in length, divided into 12 spans. And we must not 
in this connection omit to speak of the “ Washington Aqueduct 
Bridge,” whose arches are cast iron pipes; nor of those other bridges 
over the Mississippi at Quincy, Keokuk, and Burlington. 

THE LOUISVILLE BRIDGE. —Singular in appearance is the 
great railroad bridge over the Ohio River at Louisville, Kentucky. 
Twenty-four stone piers sustain it in the passage from shore to shore, 
a distance of nearly a mile, or to be exact, 5,218^ feet. With 
the exception of two of the twenty-five spans, the iron truss work is 
all below the track, thus giving the surface a peculiarly bare and 
wind-shorn appearance. As this book is not a work on civil engin¬ 
eering, it is not over important to give the cost, which was $2,016,819, 
nor to sav that it is ninety-seven feet above tbe water and twenty- 
seven feet wide. 

THE GREAT ST. LOUIS BRIDGE _The iron work on the 

Keystone Bridge across the Mississippi, at St. Louis, was completed 


AND THE WISE. 


2Q6 

amid great rejoicing. This bridge connects St. Louis with East St. Louis 
in the State of Illinois. The river, at that point, is 1,500 feet wide. 
It is spanned by three arches of 500 feet length inside the piers on 
which they rest. In its construction chrome steel was used. It has a 
tensile strain double that of ordinary steel. The bridge is arranged 
for railway and carriage tracks. It enters St. Louis near its business 
center. There is no draw in it for the passage of boats, and as it is 
but about sixty feet above high water, only the smaller class of steam¬ 
ers can pass under it without lowering their chimneys. It is an enor¬ 
mous structure. It is claimed to be the most important, or at least, 
the most notable railroad bridge in the world. Its cost, including 
approaches and tunnel, was about $10,000,000. As a feat of engin¬ 
eering skill it takes the very first rank. But great and remarkable as 
it is, the cry is raised against it that it obstructs navigation. The 
largest steamers find trouble in passing under it, and plans have been 
suggested for a remedy. But so long as the bridge stands—and that 
is likely to be many years—there seems no other course than for the 
steamers to be built and fitted with machinery for the easy lowering 
of their smoke stacks. It is evident they must acknowledge obeis¬ 
ance by a graceful bow. 

NIAGARA RAILWAY BRIDGE.^ —Until very recently this 
great structure ranked first on our somewhat rapidly increasing list of 
suspension bridges. It leaps the immense chasm through which the 
Niagara River plows its way below the Falls. Its span is but 821 
feet, which seems trifling compared with such a bridge as that be¬ 
tween New York and Brooklyn. But 821 feet at the time the bridge 
was built, was a greater width to span by cables for ponderous rail¬ 
way trains to thunder over, than a much greater width at a later day 
for lighter purposes. Fourteen thousand five hundred and sixty 
wires make up the cables, and their ultimate strength is but 12,000 
tons, which load the Brooklyn bridge cables have to bear in the 
bridge itself. The bridge is 245 feet above the rushing current be¬ 
neath. A heavy train standing on the center of the bridge, makes it 
“sag” but three inches. In 1855 the bridge was finished. So great 
a wonder has this bridge been in its day, that it has divided honors 
with the Falls themselves, with the many people visiting Niagara for 
the first time. The bridge is one of Roebling’s monuments. 


206 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


Farther up, nearer the Falls, is a lighter bridge, but of greater 
span, and designed only for foot passengers and vehicles. Its sus¬ 
pended platform is 1,240 feet. 

THE CINCINNATI BRIDGE. —This is another of the many 
Roebling monuments in this country. Graceful in form, but massive 
in strength, it clears the Ohio River at a single bound of 1,057 feet, 
the total length being 2,220 feet. Its cables, for it is a suspension 
bridge, are but two in number, it not being a railway bridge, and are 
121^ inches thick—a little larger than those of the Niagara bridge, 
and a little smaller than those of Brooklyn. The bridge is 103 feet 
above the river, and connects the city with Covington on the opposite 
shore, it has a double wagon way, and outside this, walks for pedes¬ 
trians. It is counted one of the finest works of its kind in the coun¬ 
try. $1,800,000 is what it took to pay for it. 

Less than three-quarters of a mile up the river is a wrought iron 
and pier bridge both for railroad and wagon way. It has eleven 
spans, the widest being 405 feet. 

THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE. —But greatest of all monuments 
of engineering skill up to the present time is the already famous sus¬ 
pension bridge which connects New York and Brooklyn. In every 
detail—the height of the towers, the length and diameter of the 
cables, the weight of the anchorages, and multitudes of other features 
—it is simply immense. It was thirteen years and four months from 
the beginning to the end of its building, this calculation omitting five 
years of previous getting ready. To the memory of John A. Roeb¬ 
ling, chief engineer, who lost his life during the progress of the work, 
and to his son Washington, a worthy successor, no less to the living 
than the dead, this bridge is an imperishable monument. From the 
very gates of the sea, miles and miles away, where the ocean-going 
steamers make ribbons of cloud on sea and sky, the bridge is visible 
—by day a mere silken thread from shore to shore—by night a newly 
discovered constellation in the heavens, gleaming with brilliant and 
manifold lights. But it is from near eminences that one better com¬ 
prehends the magnitude and majesty of the structure. Once, during 
the construction, one of the mighty cables broke loose from its shore 
fastenings. At first, like a giant whip-cord, hissing and cutting 
along the ground, and slashing at everything within reach, then with 


The Longest, Largest. Costliest Suspension 

Bridge in the World. 



BETWEEN NEW YORK AND BROOKLYN 






































AND THE WISE. 


20? 


frightful velocity leaping into the air, it cleared the very summit of 
the tower at one bound, and plunged madly into the river, just miss, 
ing ferry and other boats loaded with people, but hitting none of them. 

There are five parallel tracks on the bridge: The two outer for 
wagons, the two inner for cars, and above them one for foot passem 
gers, commanding a superb view up and down the river. 

Length of span between towers, 1,5955^ feet. 

Center of span above high water, 135 feet. 

Approach on the New York side, 2,4923^ feet. 

Approach on Brooklyn side, 1,9013^ feet. 

Hence, entire length, 5,9893^ feel. 

Diameter of cables, 154^ inches. 

Each cable is composed of 5,434 steel wires. 

Whole load of bridge between towers, 11,700 tons. 

What the cables can hold and not break, 49,200 tons. 

Height of towers above high water, 277 feet. 

The New York tower reaches 7S feet below high water, to bed. 
rock: the Brooklyn tower a little less. 

At either end the cables are anchored in masses of masonry weigh¬ 
ing each 60,000 tons. 

Width of bridge, 85 feet. 

Cost of bridge, $15,000,000. 

The longest bridge in this country is said to be the railroad trestle 
work across Lake Pontchartrain, near New Orleans. It is 21^ miles 
long. The piles average 60 feet in length, and are driven 40 feet. 
Some idea of its magnitude may be formed from the statement that 
the quantity of lumber required, outside the piles, is over 15,000,000 
feet, and the number of piles is 32,644. 


208 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




?alH|TATUES OF MEMNON. —Of the famous statues of Mem- 
non, at Thebes, De Hass says: “They are the renowned Co- 
lossi of Amunoph III., and but two survive a long avenue 
JE of similar statues that once guarded the approach to the grand 
temple in the rear. They originally were monoliths, but are 
now much broken, looking like" old men who have outlived 
their generation, and are cpiietly waiting their departure. 
Here are the dimensions of certain parts: Across the shoulders, 18 
feet, 3 inches; the leg, from the knee to the sole of the toot, 19 
feet, 8 inches; the foot itself, 10 feet, 6 inches long, and the arm from 
the top of the shoulder to the tip of the fingers, 34 feet, ,3 inches. 
The whole height,including pedestal, is about 70 feet. The one on 
the north is the famous Vocal Statue of Memnon, which was said to 
greet his mother Aurora every morning at sunrise with a song of praise. 
It is now in no musical mood. If the statue ever emitted any musical 
sounds they were probably produced by fine wires, invisible from the 
ground, stretched across the lap from hand to hand.” 

THE LAOCOON GROUP. —This celebrated group of statuary 
was discovered at Rome in 1506, and was purchased by Pope Julius II., 
and placed in the Vatican, where it still remains. Few of us but have 
seen pictures of it—the dread serpents coiling themselves about a 
father and his two sons. The story on which the suggestion of this 
famous group is founded is, that when Troy was being besieged by 
the Greeks, and the latter sought to capture the city by the device of 
the famous wooden horse filled with soldiers, Laocoon, a Trojan, 
warned the citizens not to receive it, and boldly stuck his spear 
into the side of the wooden mustang As a punishment it was said, 
for his impiety toward an object consecrated to Minerva, two 
monstrous serpents attacked him and his two sons, while they were 
worshiping in the temple, coiling about and crushing them. The in¬ 
cident of course, made a good subject for a statue. 

ELGIN MARBLES. —This celebrated collection of statuary was 
taken from the Acropolis at Athens, and mainly from the ruins of the 
Parthenon. They are so called from the Earl of Elgin, who, by per- 



AND THE WISE. 


209 


mission of the Turkish government, brought them to England in the 
years 1808-12. The cost of removal to Lord Elgin was ,£50,000, 
which expense was entirely borne by himself, in the interest of art. 
In 1S16 the British government bought them, paying but £35,000^ 
and they are now in the British Museum. They consist of colossal 
statues, and pieces of statues, bas-reliefs, fragments of columns, urns, 
etc. The wonderful thing about them is that they represent Greek 
art, when it was at its very highest perfection, and when, as one dis¬ 
tinguished critic has said:—“It could no higher go.” Many of the 
statues are by Phidias himself, than whom a greater sculptor never 
lived. Their influence on English art has been very great. Students 
in this country have them in the form of plaster casts. What vandal¬ 
ism it was that could ever have broken and so nearly destroyed such 
wonderful creations of art! 

VENUS DE MEDICI. —One of the most famous specimens of 
ancient sculpture is the Venus de Medici, now preserved in the cele¬ 
brated Tribune at Florence, Italy. It is 4 feet, 11 y 2 inches high. 
The face, it is said, has little beauty, the great merit of the work con¬ 
sisting almost entirely in its proportions. It was found in 1680, broken 
into eleven pieces, in the ruins of the villa of Hadrian, the Roman 
Emperor, near Tivoli. It is said to be the work of Cleomanes, an 
Athenian sculptor, who lived 200 years before Christ. The right arm 
and a portion of the left, could not be found. 

VENUS DE MILO.— This is another famous statue of the Roman 
Goddess. It was found by a peasant while digging in his garden on 
the Island of Milo, in 1820, and after changing hands several times, 
reached the Louvre, the famous Museum in Paris. Enthusiasts in art 
will never tire of talking of these two wonderful statues of Venus. 
They have served as models for distinguished sculptors in every clime 
in which art is nourished. Speaking of the latter, an authority says: 
“ Everything in the gallery yields perforce to the Venus de Milo, 
which fills the visitor’s eye.” This, like the statue at Florence, is 
mutilated, portions of the arms being gone. 

THE LION OE BELFORT. —During the recent Franco-German 
war, the little town of Belfort, high up in the Vosges Mountains, was 
the one town that held out against all odds, and that could not be 

forced or starved into surrender to the Germans. When the treaty of 

14 


210 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


j^eace was made, it was stipulated, among other things, that Belfort 
should yield with the rest, but it was retained by France. The French 
naturally desired to commemorate this remarkable defence in some 
striking and enduring manner. Against the face of the plateau on 
which the citadel stands, Bartholdi, the famous French sculptor (the 
same artist who fashioned the Statue of Liberty to be erected in New 
York harbor), has formed, partly by cutting out of the solid rock, and 
partly by building up with stone, a colossal lion, which is half raised up 
from a lying position, as if aroused by the shot of an arrow which is 
lying at its feet. The great beast seems to be uttering a terrible roar 
of anger and defiance. So gigantic is the figure that an ordinary man 
seems hardly any higher than the thickness of its paws. The whole 
conception is bold in the extreme, and the work may justly be regarded 
as among the noblest of Bartholdi’s successes. 

LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD.— Of this remark¬ 
able work we shall have to speak somewhat in the future tense, for at 
this present writing (1SS3), although the enterprise is in an advanced 
state, it is still far from completion. Visitors at the Centennial will 
recall the gigantic hand of a statue which was erected between the 
Main Building and Machinery Hall. This work belonged to the 
colossal statue entitled, “ Liberty Enlightening the World,” soon to be 
erected on Bedloe’s Island, in New York harbor. When completed 
it will be one of the most singularly impressive objects that greet the 
foreigner on his arrival in this country, or the traveler returning home. 
Allowing 20 feet for the height of the island above the water, the pedes¬ 
tal is to be 100 feet high, and the statue, to the flame of the torch, 145 
feet. This makes the torch at least 275 feet above the level of the bay. 
It will be equal in height to the column in the Place Vendome at Paris, 
and will be larger than the celebrated Colossus of Rhodes, one of the 
seven wonders of the world. At night it is proposed that a halo of 
jets of light shall radiate from the temples of the enormous goddess, 
and perhaps the flame of the torch may be fashioned in crystal, so that 
it may reflect the light of the sun by day, and at night form a glowing 
object illuminated by electricity. So great is the size of the statue 
that visitors may ascend a stairway through the arm to the platform 
surrounding the torch. M. Bartholdi is the sculptor, and the expense 
is borne jointly by citizens of France and the United States. 


AND THE WISE. 


211 





I R S T, largest, 
costliest and 
mightiest of all, 
is St. Peter’s at Rome. ) 

Its foundations 
laid in 1540, and not T 
until 175 years after was it dedicated ; 
and not until three and a half centuries 
had passed was it completed; during 
which forty-three Popes had ruled and 
passed away. It is hardly possible to tell 
what it cost. One Pope, Sextus V., 
gave one hundred gold crowns toward 
it annually, and this is but a faint hint of 
what must have been the total cost. 
Even now it costs 30,000 scudi per year 
to keep it in repair. All the great poten¬ 
tates, Popes and artists of those centuries, 
including Michael Angelo and Raphael, 
had a hand in the work. Constantine 
may be said to have laid the corner-stone. 
The cathedral is in the form of a Greek 
cross, 613^ feet long within; length of 
transept, from wall to wall, 446^ feet; 
height of nave, 152^ feet, height'of side 
aisles, 47 feet The circumference of 
the pillars which support the dome is 
253 feet, and the cupola is 193 feet in 
diameter. The height of the dome (for 
we Americans always want to know how 
high anything is) from the pavement to 
the top of the cross, is 
448 feet. There is a 
stairway by which a 
loaded horse can go 
to the roof. Over its 
chief portals are these 















































































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


212 




words u Mother and Head of all the 
Churches of the City , and the 
l World” 

After this it is hardly worth 
while to speak of other cathedrals, 
and yet there are many noble ones! 

Strasburg, the highest cathedral in all France, reaches, with its 
celebrated clock-tower, 56S feet: its tower walls are an open 
fret-work of stone, bound together with iron ties; it is to have 
two towers, only one of which is yet completed. The building 
was badly injured by shells during the siege by the Germans in 
1870. At Milan is a cathedral founded in 1387, height, 355 feet. 
It is a noble building. The one at Florence was founded in 1298, 
and covers 84,802 square feet. The one in Cologne was begun in the 
middle of the thirteenth century, and is hardly finished yet; it is one 
of the most imposing Gothic structures in Europe. When finished, its 
tower will climb up 511 feet. Dantzic was begun in 1343, and finished 
in 1503. Around the interior are fifty chapels founded by citizens of 
the place as family burial-places. The great ornament of the building 
is the celebrated painting of the Last Judgment, which has been 
attributed to Jan van Eyck. The Notre-Dame, at Antwerp, was 
founded in 1352. In 1566 it was sacked and much injured. It con¬ 
tains Rubens’ celebrated picture, “ The Descent from the Cross.” 
Please notice the great age of some of these structures. The Notre- 
Dame, at Paris, was founded in 1163, and is 390 feet long, though it 
is only 222 feet high. Its organ is forty-five feet high, and has 3,484 
pipes. Among the more modern edifices, is that of St. Paul’s, at 
London, which is 370 feet high. The one at Salisbury, dates 
back to the beginning of the thirteenth century. England has many 
other notable churches. In America, St. Peter’s and St. Paul’s, at 
Philadelphia, was founded in 1S46. Its dome is 210 feet high. Its 
frescoes and altar-piecs are by Brumidi. The cathedral at Baltimore 

is 190 feet long, 177 broad and 127 
to the top of the dome. Its organ 
has 6,000 stops. St. Peter’s, in 
New York, is 332 feet long and 
132 feet wide. Its two towers are 
each 328 feet high. The Notre- 

























Lecoe runs 1 

far into the sea, 
on its outer point, some miles ao 
Th L e p&ighthouse lifts its massive 
jff pillar of fire by nidht, c 


LONGFELLOW. 


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Ijr ly 

mi 


mXt \ 

mw 










































AND THE WISE. 


2V3 


Dame at Montreal, is 255 feet long, 135 feet wide, and will hold 
10,000 persons. It has two towers, one containing a chime, and the 
other a bell called the Gros Bourdon , which weighs 20,400 pounds. 

In this connection it may be said, that the dome of the Capitol 
at Washington, including the statue, reaches 307 feet in height. 
Trinity Church steeple in New York to 284 feet. The spire at 
Rouen is at present the highest in the world, reaching 472 feet in the 
air; but the spire of the new Public Buildings, in Philadelphia, when 
completed, will be the highest in the world, climbing to an altitude 
of* 535 f ee b but the height of the spire is seldom, or never, a measure 
of the dimensions of a building. 

The beautiful tower we give on page 211, is of the House of 
Parliament inLondon. 






V U 1 

- '“tf’HE most noted lighthouse in the world for size and antiquity 
j\\y was the Pharos of Alexandria, described in the article “Seven 
Wonders of the World.” We might add here that it is 
^ stated by Josephus that its light was visible for 41 miles at sea. 
It is certain that this tower stood for at least 1,600 years, and 
the supposition is that it was destroyed by an earthquake. 

One of the most noted of all lighthouses is the Eddystone, which 
stands on the hfddystone Rocks in the English channel, about 14 miles 
off Plymouth. The first tower was destroyed by a hurricane in 1703, 
not a remnant of the lighthouse nor a trace of its inmates being seen 
afterward. The second tower being partly of wood, was consumed 
by fire. And then was erected on these famous rocks a tower which 
has been considered one of the most remarkable feats of engineering. 
It was begun in 1756, and finished three years later. The trunk of a 
tree was the model, the stones were dovetailed together. Its diameter 
is 32 feet at the bottom, 15 feet at top, and it is 77 feet besides the light. 
Even this finally weakened, and a second and a similar tower was 
erected in 1882. 












THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




Hardly less important is the justly celebrated tower of Cordovan, 
situated on a ledge of rocks in the Bay of Biscay. It is of stone, 162 
feet high. For over 100 years a lire of oak wood blazed every night 
on its tower. There are four stories, of different orders of architecture, 
and adorned with the busts of kings. It is still in “service.” 

The Bell Rock lighthouse, off the east coast of Scotland, is one 
of the many celebrated works of Geo. Stevenson, the English en¬ 
gineer; and the Skerryvore light, on the west coast of the same country, 
erected by a son of Stevenson, both of stone, and in the track of the 
great ships, have been largely talked about by scientific men. 

The Bishop Rock light, off the coast of the Scilly Islands, against 
which the Atlantic beats; the Wolf Rock, near by; the Great Basses 
near Ceylon, with its walls 5 feet thick, are marvels of engineering 
skill. A cast-iron lighthouse near Bermuda, completed in 1856, is 150 
feet high. 

In the United States, perhaps the most famous lighthouse is that 
of Minot’s Ledge, off the coast of Massachusetts, about 8 miles south¬ 
east of Boston. The first structure, finished in 1849, was of iron. Some 
idea of its strength may be inferred from the fact that its iron piles were 
10 inches in diameter, and that they were inserted in the solid rock 5 
feet; and some idea of the fury and strength of the waves of the 
Atlantic in a storm, may be inferred from the fact that in April, 1851, 
when the structure was destroyed, all these immense iron piles were 
literally twisted off. In 1855, the construction of a granite tower was 
begun on the ledge, but so great were the difficulties encountered that 
it was two years before even the rock, which was below water, could 
be prepared, and in the whole of 1857 but four stones were laid. Still 
in 1S60, the present structure was completed. 

There are nearly 700 lighthouses in the United States, though the 
Minot’s is by far the most famous. Many are of stone, some of iron, 
some tall on the cliffs, and some squatty on the water. On nothing 
else has the engineering skill of the country been more concentrated. 
Sometimes, while in the very process of laying the foundations, stones 
weighing tons would be swept away like pebbles. And sometimes 
the ice will mass itself in mountains against them in winter. In the 
darkness of stormy nights, sea birds in vast numbers will dash them¬ 
selves against the lantern. The light which saves the sailor on the 


AND THE WISE. 


2 m 


sea, is a means of death to the fowls in the air. All our lighthouses 
are under the control of, and supported by the government, at an annual 
expense of about $2,000,000; and they all use the famous Fresnel 
lens, by which a light is thrown as far as the rotundity of the earth 
will permit. 





j(!*j|OSTON. —In 1848, under the mayoralty of Josiah Quincy, 
Junior, a system of works was completed which gave Bos¬ 
ton an abundant supply of water. Lake Cochituate, twenty 
miles west of the city, and which drains some 14,400 acres, 
was tapped, and water was thus brought in a brick conduit, 
eleven miles long, to a grand reservoir in Brookline, which 
has a capacity of some 20,000,000 gallons. An additional supply is 
also received from the Sudbury River. 

BALTIMORE. —The city is chiefly supplied with water from 
Roland Lake, about seven miles distant, and 225 feet above tide. 
Mount Royal reservoir is near the northern limits of the city. 

CHICAGO. —The system of water supply for Chicago has been 
called one of the wonders of the world. A nearly cylindrical brick 
tunnel, sixty-two inches high and sixty wide, extends two miles under 


Lake Michigan' and lies sixty-six to seventy feet below the lake sur¬ 
face. At the shore end the water is pumped up an iron column 130 
feet high, and flows thence to all parts of the city. The engine can 
pump 72,000,000 gallons daily. At the lake end the water filters 
through a grated cylinder into the tunnel. This tunnel was finished 
in 1866. A second tunnel was subsequently constructed to extend 
under the city, and this furnishes an independent supply.— (See 
tunnels.) 


CLEVELAND. —This city received its water supply from a similar 
tunnel extending under Lake Erie. 

CINCINNATI. —Water is obtained from the Ohio River. The 













216 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


water works are of great magnitude. There are four powerful pump¬ 
ing engines, with an average daily capacity of 19,000,000 gallons. 
The average daily consumption is about 17,000,000. 

NEW YORK. —New York City receives its water supply from a 
group of small lakes situated in Westchester county. A dam was 
thrown across the Croton River, the natural outlet of these lakes, 
thus forming Croton Lake. From this lake an aqueduct extends 
405^ miles to the distributing reservoir on Murray Hill, between 40th 
and 42d Streets. The aqueduct is arched above and below, and 
is 7^ feet wide by 8^ feet high, and has a capacity of 115,000,000 
gallons daily. The water is carried across Harlem River in cast-iron 
pipes on a bridge of granite known as High Bridge, 1,460 feet long, 
supported by 14 piers, the crown of the highest arch being 116 feet 
above high water. The receiving reservoir in Central Park and the 
retaining reservoir just above it have a united capacity of 1,150,000,000 
gallons. In spite of this, the city is now taking measures for further 
increasing its water supply. 

NEW ORLEANS. —In 1836 the water of the Mississippi was 
first introduced into the city for domestic purposes. In 1868 the city 
became the purchasers of the water works, paying $1,300,000. Most 
of the dwellings are also supplied with large cisterns for holding 
rain water. 

PHILADELPHIA. —The city is supplied with water from the 
Schuylkill chiefly, and to a very limited extent from the Delaware. 
There are seven works: The Fairmont, the Schuylkill, the Spring 
Garden, the Delaware, the Belmont, the Roxborough, and the Frank¬ 
lin. The works pump an average of about 50,000,000 gallons per 
day. 

ST. LOUIS. —This city also receives its supply from the Mis¬ 
sissippi. The water is raised into four large reservoirs, each about 
twenty feet deep, where it remains twenty-four hours to free it from 
sediment. 

SAN FRANCISCO. —The water is brought from Pilarcitos Creek, 
near the base of the peninsula, by a conduit .thirty miles long. The 
supply is about 20,000,000 gallons daily. 

WASHINGTON. —Washington and Georgetown are supplied 


AND THE WISE. 


2IZ 

with water from the great falls of the Potomac above by an aque¬ 
duct twelve miles long. The distributing reservoir is capable of 
containing 300,000,000 gallons, although the present consumption is 
only about 25,000,000 gallons per day. 

FOREIGN CITIES. 

CONSTANTINOPLE. —Two aqueducts, nine or ten miles long, 
built by the Emperors Hadrian and Constantine, furnish the city with 
water. The cisterna basilica , constructed under Justinian, the roof 
of which rests upon 336 marble columns, is still used as a reservoir. 

LONDON. —While schemes are proposed from time to time for 
increasing the water supply, by tapping mountain streams, the river 
Thames continues to be the great reservoir of London. The supply 
pipes are not attached to mains, in which the water is always under 
pressure, but to smaller pipes, into which it is daily turned on for one 
or two hours. 

Five of the metropolitan water companies draw their supplies from 
the Thames above Teddington lock. The average daily flow of the 
river at the intakes is 500,000,000 gallons. These companies abstract 
68,000,000 gallons per day—that is, a little more than one-eighth of the 
total flow. They possess power to abstract 110,000,000 gallons per 
day. On the drainage area of the Thames, there dwell 900,000 people 
(including 200,000 in towns of upward of 2,000 inhabitants), and 
upon it there live 60,000 horses, 160,000 cattle, 900,000 sheep, and 
120,000 pigs. Their sewage and refuse pass into the Thames, either 
directly or indirectly. The theory that polluted river water purifies 
itself in its flow has been proved to be false. After filtration this water 
is sent to London. It is considered very satisfactory when filtration 
removes 28 per cent, of the organic impurities, leaving 72 per cent, to 
be supplied in solution to the consumer. The companies derive a 
gross annual income of T75 0 } 000 f° r this supply. 

PARIS. —The enormous quantity of water consumed by the city 
is drawn from the river Seine, which flows through the city, from the 
canal DePOurcq, the aqueduct of Arcneil, and the immense artesian 
wells of Grenelle and Passy. Great aqueducts, begun in 1863, are 
still in progress, which will bring additional water supplies from 


218 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


springs in distant valleys. Paris has ioo miles of underground water 
pipes, more than 200 fountains, and 4,000 drinking places. 

VIENNA. —The city is supplied with excellent water from the 
Schneeberg, 40 miles distant, by an aqueduct completed in 1S73, the 
most important modern work of the kind in Continental Europe. 



How They Tell 


IT IS 



HAT is known as the Signal Service Bureau has, in this 
country, grown to be of so much importance, that it is in¬ 
teresting to have at least a general knowledge of its work¬ 
ings. It is one of the notable things of this day and age. 
A very large proportion—probably three-quarters—of the 
predictions of the weather bureau prove to be correct. 

Scattered all over this country, at advantageous points, and equi¬ 
table distances, like the ancient cities of refuge, there are about 250 
signal stations. Each of these stations is fully rigged with instruments 
that register everything important concerning the atmosphere. Three 
times each day, from all these stations, reports are telegraphed to Wash¬ 
ington, where is the central office. Now then, this is the way “ Old 
Probabilities” makes up his famous predictions. As these various re¬ 
ports are received, he, with a map before him, draws a red line con¬ 
necting all these points which have the lowest atmospheric depression. 
The area within this red line is called a “ storm-center,” about which 
we hear so much. And the wise old man knows that from all points 
outside this circle the wind will rush in toward its center, because “ low 
pressure ” means less air, and on the principle that nature abhors a 
vacuum, the air outside rushes in to fill the void. Nearest the storm 
center the wind blows hardest. So this storm center moves over the 
country, and the ever watching and reporting telegraph faithfully re¬ 
cords its progress, and knowing all about the moisture, the temperature, 
the cloudiness, velocity of the wind, etc., “ Old Prob.” can very accu¬ 
rately tell when and where it will rain. Sometimes there are several 











AND THE WISE. 


219 


storm centers “in session” at the same time in different parts of the 
country, and of course this makes it very lively for the winds, and also 
for the weather bureau at Washington. 

Then, one good thing about it is, that the signal service has arranged 
for the constant and prompt reporting of its predictions. When from 
the ships lying in New York harbor, there is visible on the flag-staff 
on top of the Equitable Insurance Building a white flag with a square 
black center , above a red flag with a similar center, the captains all know 
it as the “ Cautionary-off-shore Signal,” and so they delay sailing. It 
means that the storm disturbance is still central in that neighborhood, 
or is coming. So at other ports. Arrangements have also been made 
for having the predictions mailed each morning from all the leading 
stations in the country to all the postmasters, to be posted up, so that 
even the farmers may know when it is safe to start the mower. One 
thing still puzzles the weather bureau—the whole vast ocean surface, 
so near, so pregnant with storms that affect the land, and yet from it 
can come no telegraphic reports. But who knows but that even this 
difficulty may soon be overcome? 


SOME OP THE GREAT BELLS. 

R t ; r/HK origin of bells mav be dated from the time of Moses. In 
l Exodus 2&: 33-35 a golden bell is mentioned as upon the 
lipJ hem of the robe of Aaron, in order that “ his sound shall be 
|j| heard when he goeth into the holy place before the Lord.” 
y In the middle ages bells were often baptized and christened 
with great pomp. The Sanctus Bell was formerly hung in the outer 
turret of the Roman Catholic churches, at the sound of which all 
who heard bowed in adoration. The Ave Maria Bell announced the 
hour for beginning and ceasing labor. The Vesper Bell was the call 
to evening prayer. The Passing Bell was so called because it was 

tolled when any one was passing from life. 

The ringing of the Curfew Bell was introduced into England by 
William the Conqueror. It was rung at eight or nine in the evening, 





THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


2&0 

when all lights and fires were expected to be extinguished. This was 
to prevent fires. 

The largest Bell in the world is in Moscow—the City of Bells. It 
was cast in 1653; is 21 feet, 414 inches high, 22 feet, 5^ inches in 
diameter, where the clapper strikes, and weighs 443,772 pounds. His¬ 
torians are in doubt whether this giant among bells was ever hung. 
Dr. Clark says “ The Russians might as well have attempted to sus¬ 
pend a line-of-battle. ship with all its stores and guns.” But Bayard 
Taylor contends that it was both hung and rung; that it was rung by 
fifty men pulling upon the clapper, twenty-five on each side. In 1837 
the Czar Nicholas caused it to be used as a chapel, the entrance being 
through a fracture in the side. It is recorded that at the casting of 
this bell, nobles were present from all parts of Europe, who vied with 
each other in casting gold and silver plate into the furnace. 

In Moscow alone there are 5,000 great bells, one of which, in the 
tower of St. Ivan, weighs 144,000 pounds. It is said that when it 
sounds, which is but once a year, a deep hollow murmur vibrates all 
over Moscow, like the fullest notes of a vast organ, or the rolling of 
distant thunder. 

Appleton’s Cyclopedia gives some additional facts in regard to 
bells. The bells of China rank next in size to those of Russia, but 
are much inferior to them in form and tone. In Peking, it is stated 
by Father Le Compte, there are seven bells, each weighing 120,000 
pounds. One in the suburbs of the city is, according to the testimony 
of many travelers, the largest suspended bell in the world. It is hung 
near the ground, in a large pavilion, and, to ring it, a huge beam is 
swung against its side. A bell taken from the Dagon pagoda at R an- 
goon was valued at $80,000. Among the bells recently cast for the 
new Houses of Parliament, the largest weighs 14 tons. The next 
largest bell in England was cast in 1845 f° r York Minster, and weighs 
27,000 pounds, and is 7 feet 7 inches in diameter. The Great Tom 
of Oxford weighs 17,000 pounds, and the Great Tom of Lincoln 12,- 
000 pounds. The bell of St. Paul’s in London is 9 feet in diameter, and 
weighs 11,500 pounds. One placed in the Cathedral of Paris in 1680 
weighs 38,000 pounds. One in Vienna, cast in 1711, weighs 40,000 
pounds; and in Olmutz is another weighing about the same. The 
famous bell called Susanne of Erfurt is considered to be of the finest 





The Great Bell of Moscow— Largest in the World 































AND THE WISE. 


m 

bell-metal, containing the largest proportion of silvery its weight is 
about 30,000 pounds; it was cast in 1497. At Montreal, Canada, is a 
larger bell than any in England, weighing 29,400 pounds; it was im¬ 
ported in 1843 for tlle Notre-Dame Cathedral. In the opposite tower 
of the cathedral is a chime of ten bells, the heaviest of which weighs 
6,043 pounds, and their aggregate weight is 21,800 pounds. 




OP 



pf HERE is in Turin, Italy, a tiny boat formed of a single pearl, 
which form it assumes in swell and concavity. Its sail is of 
beaten gold, studded with diamonds, and the binnacle light at 
its prow is a perfect ruby. An emerald serves as its rudder, 
and its stand is a slab of ivory. It weighs less than half an 
ounce; its price is $5,000. 

There is a watch in a Swiss Museum only three-sixteenths of an 
inch in diameter, inserted in the top of a pencil case. Its little dial not 
only indicates hours, minutes and seconds, but also days of the month. 
It is a relic of the times when watches were inserted in snuff boxes, 
shirt studs and finger rings. Some were fantastic—oval, octangular, 
cruciform, or in the shape of pearls, tulips, etc. 

In 1578, Mark Scalliot, a blacksmith of London, made “for exhi¬ 
bition and trial of skill one lock of iron, steel and brass, all of which, 
together with a pipe-key to it, weighed but one grain of gold. He 
also made a chain of gold, consisting of forty-three links, and having 
fastened to this the before mentioned lock and key, he put the chain 
about the neck of a flea, which drew them all with ease. All these 
together—lock and key, chain and flea—weighed only one grain and 
a half.” 

Oswaldus Northingerus is said to have made 1,600 dishes of turned 
ivory, all perfect and complete in every part, yet so thin and slender 
that all of them were included at once in a cup turned out of a pepper¬ 
corn of the common size. They were so small as to be almost invisible 
to the eye. They were presented to Pope Paul V. 







5‘HE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


Queen Victoria is in the possession of a curious needle. It was 
made at the celebrated needle manufactory at Redditch, and represents 
the column of Trajan in miniature. This well-known Roman column 
is adorned with numerous scenes in sculpture, which immortalize 
Trajan’s heroic actions in war. On this diminutive needle scenes in 
the life of Queen Victoria are represented in relief, but so firmly cut 
and so small that it requires a magnifying glass to see them. The 
Victoria needle can, moreover, be opened; it contains a number of 
needles of smaller size, which are equally adorned with scenes in 
relief. 

In 1691 a barrel was made at Sleideburg in Germany, which is 
composed of 112 solid beams, twenty-seven feet in length, is sixteen 
feet across the ends, and eighteen feet through the center, and contains 
800 hogsheads; yet it was once drank out in eight days.— Troy 
Times 





5 


N Dutch drainage-work the dike is a very important element. 
These vary, of course, according to the circumstances under 
which they are required. On the North Sea coast, where they 
are built to withstand tide rising ten feet beyond their average, 
eJjjk and, lashed by storms, they constitute a work of stupendous 
magnitude and cost. In the case of a holder of a few acres, 
they may be the work of a single man. Occasionally in their 
construction serious engineering difficulties are presented; especially 
is this the case where the dike is be constructed in the water. 
Here the two sides of the foundation, which must reach from the 
solid earth to the surface of the water, are made by sinking great 
rafts of facines made of willow osiers, often from 190 to 150 yards 
square, strongly secured together, and making a compact mass. 
These are floated over the place they are intended to occupy, where 
they are guided by poles sunk in the bottom, and are loaded with 
stones or with earth, until they sink. Upon this first is a second 
or smaller one, and often a third, and even a fourth, always decreasing 







AND THE WISE. 


23$ 

in size, and placed in turn. The space between the two walls is filled 
with solid earth, and on the top of this secure foundation the dike is 
built. It the dike is to remain exposed to moving water, it must be 
further protected by jetties, or by mason-work, or by wattles placed 
upon its slope, or by rows of piles, basket work of straw or rushes, 01 
sometimes by brick walls.— Col. Geo. E. Waring. 









NE of the greatest works of the present century is the construc¬ 


tion of the Suez Canal (completed in 1869). It connects the 
^ Mediterranean with the Red Sea, thus shortening the voyage to 
India by about 6,000 miles in distance, and a month in time. It is 
86)4 miles long, 250 feet wide, and deep enough to allow the largest 
vessels to pass through. Its cost was $130,000,000. 


^•OCOo^- 



SOMB OP THE GREAT TUNNELS,\ 

H^OOSAC TUNNEL. —The history of this gigantic enterprise, is, 
since 1825, when it first began to be talked about, almost the 
history of 'the State itself. It stretches its dark length of 414 
[ miles under the Hoosac Mountain in Massachusetts, and isthejug- 
^ ular vein between New England and all the West. Many bold 
[ capitalists and experienced borers took a hard pull at it, sunk 
their fortunes, and quit. Finally the State shouldered the job, and it 
went through. First estimated cost of tunnel and track, $4,350,000. 
Final cost to the State, $14,000,000. Total length, 24,416 feet; width, 
24 feet; height, 20 feet. The first work was done in 1855, and the 
tunnel was substantially finished in 1874. 

CHICAGO TUNNEL. — This tunnel was begun in 1864, and 
finished in 1867. It is driven from the city out under Lake Michigan, 




















THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


'm 

and through it the city receives its water supply. Its length is two 
miles, and its cost was $457,844. The excavation was only 5 feet in 
diameter. A second tunnel 7 feet in diameter, was completed in 1874, 
at a cost of $411,510. Both reach out to a well-hole, into which the 
water filters. This enterprise has attracted a good deal of attention 
both in this country and Europe. • 

MUSCONETCONG TUNNEL. —This famous puncture is noth¬ 
ing wonderful in length, but, on account of the difficulties sur¬ 
mounted, has justly been regarded as one of the boldest enterprises of 
its kind. It is on the Lehigh Valley Railroad extension through New 
Jersey. It was begun in 1872, and finished in 1875* If is n °t a m ile 
long, but floods of water impeded the work, and the syenitic gneiss 
encountered, was almost impenetrable even by the most improved 
drilling machines. 

NOT YET BUILT. —A tunnel constantly talked of since 1873, 
and for which a company was organized, and a route decided on, but 
which at this time, 1883, is not yet fairly under way, though its ultimate 
construction can hardly be doubted, is to extend under the English 
Channel, from England to Franee, a distance of 31 miles. It is roughly 
estimated the job will cost nine million pounds. 

MONT CENIS TUNNEL. —This great bore is through the Alps 
Mountains, and is the vital link between the world of France on the 
north, and that of Italy on the south. The work was begun August 
31, 1857, the king of Sardinia himself firing the first mine. The 
boring was done simultaneously from both the north and south sides, 
and on September 26, 1870, thirteen years from the time of starting, 
the workmen from either side shook hands at the meeting point; 39,482 
feet, or nearly 8 miles, is the exact length of the perforation; 3,000 
men in winter, and 4,000 in summer, did the job; which cost the good 
round sum of $15,000,000. The first train rolled through September 
17, 1871. It is a great work. 

ST. GOTHARD TUNNEL. —This enterprise must also rank among 
the greatest of scientific achievements. Like the Mont Cenis tunnel, 
it is also under the Alps; is 9 miles long, and took from 1872 to 1879 
for its completion. 

THAMES TUNNEL. —Fifty years ago this tunnel under the 


AND THE WISE. 


Thames at London, was thought a great enterprise, and was. It was 
begun in 1807, and was not opened tor foot passengers until 1843. It 
is but 1,200 feet long. London now has a much larger enterprise 
of this kind, running under docks and warehouses, and that cost at the 
rate of .£390,000 a mile. 


$** 



HE most important pearl fisheries are in the Persian Gulf, off 
the Arabian coast, in the Bay of Bengal, near Ceylon, and in 
other parts of the Indian Ocean. Previous to 1795 most of 


typ the Indian fisheries were in the hands of the Dutch, but they 
iff became British after the treaty of Amiens in 1802. The 
Ceylon fisheries are sometimes undertaken by the Government, and 
sometimes they are let to a contractor. Before the commencement 
of the season, a government inspection of the coast takes place, in 
order that the banks may not be impoverished by too frequent 
fishing. The fishing for the pintadines in the Gulf of Menaar, a 
large bay on the northeast coast of the island of Ceylon, com¬ 
mences in February or in March, and continues thirty days. Upon 
this ground 250 boats are occupied, which come from different 
parts of the coast. At 10 at night, at the sound of a signal gun, 
they put to sea, and, as soon as the dawn furnishes them with 
sufficient light, tney commence their day’s labor. Each boat is 
manned by ten rowers, and ten divers occupy the deck, which 
covers half the vessel. Five of the divers rest while the others 
are gathering the pintadines, and each boat’s crew is attended by a 
negro, who makes himself generally useful. The divers descend 
usually about forty feet, and the best of them can keep under the 
water one and a half minutes. To accelerate their descent they 
attach to their foot a stone of the shape of a sugar-loaf, which weighs 
about fifty pounds. Arriving at the fishing-ground, a diving-stage, 
which projects over the side of the boat, is made by lashing the oars 
to each other. To the edge of this stage the diving-stones are hung. 

15 












THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


226 

When a diver descends, he places his right foot in a stirrup, which is 
attached to the conical point of the stone, or he holds the cord which 
suspends the stone to the boat between his toes; with the other foot 
he carries a net in which the shells are to be placed, then, seizing in 
his right hand a signal-cord, conveniently arranged for this purpose, 
and, tightly closing his nostrils with his left hand, he plunges, holding 
himself vertically over the sinking stone. Lest his descent should be 
in the slightest degree impeded, the diver is naked, with the exception 
of a piece of calico round his loins. Upon reaching the bottom he 
withdraws his foot from the stirrup, and the stone is at once drawn to 
the top, ready for the use of another diver. He then throws himself 
upon his face on the ground, and, stretching out his arms, he gathers 
all the mollusks within his reach and places them»within his net. 
When he wishes to ascend, he pulls the signal cord sharply, and is 
rapidly drawn up. There is always one stone for two divers; one 
rests and refreshes himself while the other is in the water. The time 
the divers ordinarily keep beneath the surface is thirty seconds, and, 
in favorable circumstances, the}'’ can make fifteen or twenty descents 
in succession. But somtimes they are unable to go down more than 
three or four times. Even then, when they come up, water colored 
with blood comes from their mouths, noses, and ears. The work is 
very distressing, and makes sad havoc of the constitution; the pearl- 
divers never reach old age. The fishing is continued until noon, 
when a second gun gives the signal to cease. The owners of the 
boats wait on the shore to superintend the discharge of the cargoes, 
which must be all secured before night, to prevent robbery. Formerly 
the Ceylon fisheries were very productive. In 1797 they yielded 
.£144,000, and in the following year as much as £192,000. In 1802 
the banks were let for £120,000, but ever since they have been less and 
less valuable and now are not worth more than £20,000 per annum. 

SOME OF THE GIANT PEARLS. 

Of course there are giants among‘ the pearls, whose size and 
value render them historical. Julius Caesar, who was a great admirer 
of pearls, gave one to Servilia, which was valued at a million ses- 
terses, nearly £48,000 of our money! Cleopatra had two famous 
pearls one of which the capricious queen dissolved in vinegar, and 


AND THE WISE. 


22Z 


drank the precious draught—a cup of acid wine worth £60,000. The 
other pearl was split in two, and each half became an ear-ring in the 
statue of the Capitoline Venus. If it be true, the highest price ever 
given for a pearl was £ 180,000, with which sum the Shah of Persia 
is said to have bought one from Taverner, which that traveler had 
purchased at Califa. In 1759 one of the earliest transactions of this 
nature is recorded. A pearl from Panama, worth .£4,000, was 
brought to Philip II., king of Spain. The Prince of Muscat pos¬ 
sessed one fished up from his waters, which was not large, but so 
transparent that he refused for it the same sum. In the Zozema 
Museum at Moscow, there is a pearl called the “ Pilgrim,” which is 
quite semi-lucent; it is globular in form, and weighs nearly an ounce. 
The Shah of Persia possesses a string of pearls, each of which is 
as large as a hazel-nut; the price of the string is inestimable! At the 
Paris Exhibition in 1855 Her Majesty, the Queen of England, ex¬ 
hibited some magnificent pearls; and the Emperor also contributed 
408 of the finest water; their value was more than £20,000. Pearls 
have always been held in the highest estimation by the Eastern 
nations; indeed, they invested large pearls with magnificent powers, 
and believed that their possession exercised a mystic influence, guid¬ 
ing their fortunes, and preserving them from evil.— World of the Sea. 




\ V'T is estimated that there are 500,000 lace makers in Europe, of 
/* ( «r w hom nearly one-half are employed in France. Almost all of 
the latter work at home. Of the French laces, the most noted 
i s the point D’Alencon, which has had a wide celebrity for more 
than two centuries, and has been styled the queen of lace. It is made 
entirely by hand, with a fine needle on a parchment pattern, in small 
pieces, which are afterward united by invisible seams. The firmness 
and solidity of the texture are remarkable. Horse-hair is often intro¬ 
duced along the edge to give firmness. Although the workmanship 
of this lace has always been of great beauty, the designs in the older 










THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


specimens were seldom copied from nature. This circumstance gave a 
marked advantage to the laces of Brussels, which represented flowers 
and other natural designs with a high degree of accuracy. The defect, 
however, has disappeared in the point D’Alencon of recent manufact¬ 
ure; at the Paris Exposition of 1867 were specimens containing 
admirable copies of natural flowers, intermixed with grasses and 
ferns. Owing to its elaborate construction, this lace is seldom seen 
in large pieces. A dress made of point D’Alencon, the production 
of Bayeur, consisting of two flounces and trimmings, was exhibited 
at the Exposition of 1867, the price of which was 85,000 francs. It 
required forty women seven years to complete it. 

■NS— Q) (S —S3- 


A LOFTY STATION. 


,HE monastery of Saint Bernard has been for many years the 
highest building in Europe, viz., 8,200 feet above the level of 
1 ° @|® the sea. Now this claim belongs to Sicily, as upon the Etna 
there has been erected an observatory at the height of 9,200 feet 
above the level of the sea. 





Yucatan is exceedingly rich in remains. Uxmal is situated in this 
region. The ruins known by this name are very magnificent. Obe¬ 
lisks, with the face and form of some deity carved upon each, are 
found in numbers. As at Copan, the principal ruin at Uxmal is a 
large platform. This pyramidal structure has two terraces besides 
f .he summit, which is over forty feet high. The lower terrace is five 
hundred and seventy-five feet long, and fifteen feet wide. A temple 
stands upon the summit platform, with a front of three hundred and 
twenty-two feet. The sculpture upon this temple is among the rich- 














AND JPHB WISE. 


2[SJ9 

est specimens yet found in ancient American remains. The temple 
contains twenty-two chambers or apartments, in two rows of eleven 
each. There are no windows in the structure, light being admitted 
to the inner apartments through the doors of the outer ones. These 
features occur in the other ruins of the region. Differences are found, 
but the conclusion is quite certain that one race formerly occupied all 
that portion of the continent now covered by Mexico, Yucatan and 
Central America. Palenque, situated in the Mexican province of 
Chiapas, was the first extensive ruin discovered. The largest building 
is supported by a platform, as in the other cases, and bears a resem¬ 
blance to the others. Painted stucco is found in certain parts of the 
ruins at Palenque. Mitla, in the State of Oajaca, furnishes an exam¬ 
ple of massive remains. Portions of the front of the palace are cov¬ 
ered with beautiful mosaics. Frescoing is also found. 

• ___ * mu,, * /— 7 . 

z — 7 •— ^ u, * 




<?>v 



HE first railroad in successful operation was one built in 1825, 
® in England, of thirty-seven miles in length. This was built by 
the famous George Stephenson, who was the son of a poor col¬ 
liery laborer. In 1828 a more important road—the Liverpool 
and Manchester—was completed by Stephenson. The direc¬ 
tors didn’t begin to have an idea of the proportions to which their 
enterprise would grow, for their charter said that any one could run 
carriages, or trams drawn by horses, upon the railroad, after the pay¬ 
ment of a small toll. But Stephenson persuaded the projectors to offer 
a prize of T550 for an engine which should draw three times its own 
weight on a level road at a speed of ten miles per hour. The price of 
the locomotive was to be T55 0 —about $2,750. In 1829 George 
Stephenson and his son Robert, in competition for this prize built the 
“ Rocket,” which weighed only y / 2 tons, and drew 44 tons at the rate 
of 14 miles per hour. This was the first successful English locomo¬ 
tive. Such a strange looking thing it was! The fiist passengei 1 ail- 
road in America was the Baltimore & Ohio, opened in 1830. And 
the first American locomotive was constructed by I etei Coopei. 
















THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 






ANY remarkable illustrations have been furnished of the fact 
\ U—Os, that exactly counterparting a swift-going vessel will not insure 
fvA speed in the duplicated one. Several exact models of the Mary 
x Powell, the swiftest of the Hudson River boats, have been 
made, but none of them can go so well as the original. Another 
notable illustration is furnished by the scow schooner Randall, which 
outsailed everything she competed with some years ago on the San 
Francisco Bay. She was a mere square box, but although her lines 
are supposed to have been frequently reproduced by her builder, not 
one of the many scow schooners made on her model have been any 
way notable for speed. The Randall was burned to the water’s edge 
while carrying a cargo of hay, and was never rebuilt. 



-* 

^fiHIS stupendous wall, which extends across the northern 
boundary of the Chinese Empire, is deservedly ranked among 
the grandest labors of art. It is conducted over the summits 
of high mountains, several of which have an elevation of no 
less than 5,225 feet (nearly a mile), across deep valleys, and 
over wide rivers, by means of arches; in many parts it is 
doubled or trebled, to command important passes; and at the distance 
of nearly every hundred yards is a tower or massive bastion. Its 
extent is computed at 1,500 miles; but in some parts, where less 
danger is apprehended, it is not equally strong or complete, and 
toward the northwest consists merely of a strong rampart of earth. 
Near Koopekoo it is twenty-five feet in height, and at the top 
about fifteen feet thick; some of the towers, which are square, are 
forty-eight feet high, and about forty feet in width. The stone 
employed in foundations, angles, etc., is a strong grey granite; but 







AND THE WISE. 


the materials for the greater part consist of bluish bricks, and the 
mortar is remarkably pure and white. The era of the construction 
of this great barrier, which has been and will continue to be the 
wonder and admiration of ages, is considered by Sir George Staunton 
as having been absolutely ascertained, and he asserts that it has ex¬ 
isted for two thousand years. In this assertion he appears to have 
followed DuHalde, who informs us that “ this prodigious work was 
constructed two hundred and fifteen years before the birth of Christ, 
by order of the first Emperor of the family of Tsin, to protect three 
large provinces from the irruptions of the Tartars.” 

All the cities of China are surrounded by high, strong walls, 
whose massive proportions it is difficult to comprehend, unless they 
are seen. The wall surrounding the city of Pekin is on the average 
fifty feet high. This wall is sixty-six feet thick at the bottom and 
fifty-four at the top, and every hundred yards there are immense 
buttresses. There is no way of getting into the city except through 
the wall. Inside the inclosing wall is another of miles in extent, 
around what is called the Imperial City. Inside of this is still another 
around what is called the Prohibited City. Within this is the resi¬ 
dence of the Emperor. There are probably one thousand walled 
cities in China, whose walls will average twenty-five feet high and 
twenty feet thick. A distinguished writer says that the whole 
amount of wall in China, if put together, would build one twenty 
feet high and ten feet thick around the globe, and would require 
5,000 men to work steadily 2,000 years to build.— Rev. C. C. Clarke. 







— —0. 

1 (HE fact has lately been disclosed that locks having sliders and 


if 


tumblers, have for centuries been made in China, on the iden- 
^ \j> tical principles of action which have been “ re-invented” by 
'English patentees at various periods during the last 100 years. 
Thus also some dentist’s tools, recently discovered at Pompeii, have 
recently been patented in England as new inventions. 






f 

232 JHHE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL. 


BA ALB EC AND ITS GREAT STONES. 

l 

can compare with them. Here on a vast platform, 900 feet 
long and 500 feet wide, standing 30 feet above the plain, and sup¬ 
ported by a wall of immense stones, the largest 69 feet long, 15 feet 
thick, and 17 feet wide, are the remains of the temples of Baal and 
Jupiter—the most perfect ruins in the world. Single columns 75 
feet high and 21 feet in circumference, surmounted by an entablature 
15 feet high, all of exquisite workmanship. The eastern doorway to 
the temple of Jupiter is 42 feet high in the clear, and 21 feet wide. 
The key-stone of this portal weighs 60 tons, and on it is sculptured 
the s3'mbol of Jupiter—power and dominion: An eagle soaring 
among the stars, grasping in his talons the thunderbolts of Jove. 
The eagle on the standard of our country was taken from this Roman 
symbol . 1 ’—Buried Cities Recovered. 

WHERE ALL THE GREAT STONES COME FROM. 

Back of Assouan, about one mile, says De Hass, you come to the 
granite quarries of Syene, that furnished the material for all the enor¬ 
mous statues and obelisks we find in Egypt. One huge block, 95 
feet long by 11 feet square, partly dressed, from some cause lies still in 
the quarry, never having been removed, and is not likely soon to 
be disturbed. (Another writer tells us that in the ruins of an un¬ 
finished temple was found the very place for which this stone was 
designed.) 

EGYPT’S MECHANICAL MARVELS. 

Wendell Phillips, in his lecture on the Lost Arts, makes the fol¬ 
lowing reference to the moving of these same masses of stone by the 
ancients: 

Taking their employment of the mechanical forces, and their 




wHIS is what De Hass says about the ruins of Baalbec: “They 
7 are in some respects the ruins of the sublimest works ever 
executed by man. Nothing in Greece, Rome or Egypt, 











AND THE WISE. 233 

movement of large masses from the earth, we know that they had 
the five, seven, or three mechanical powers, but we cannot account for 
the multiplication and increase necessary to perform the wonders they 
accomplished. In Boston, lately, we have moved the Pelham Hotel, 
weighing 50,000 tons, 14 feet, and are very proud of it; and since 
then we moved a whole block of houses 22 feet, and I have no doubt 
we will write a book about it; but there is a book telling how Do- 
minico Fontana, of the sixteenth century, set up the Egyptian obelisk 
at Rome on end, in the Papacy of Sixtus V. Wonderful! Yet the 
Egyptians quarried that stone and carried it 150 miles, and the Rom¬ 
ans brought it 750 miles, and never said a word about it. Mr. Bat- 
terson, of Hartford, walking with Brunnel, the architect of the 
Thames Tunnel, in Egypt, asked him what he thought of the me¬ 
chanical power of the Egyptians, and he said, There is Pompey’s 
Pillar, it is 100 feet high, and the capital weighs 2,000 pounds. It is 
something of a feat to hang 2,000 pounds at that height in the air, 
and the few men that can do it had better discuss Egyptian mechanics. 
Take canals, for instance. The Suez Canal absorbs half its receipts 
in cleaning out the sand which fills it continually, and it is not yet 
known whether it is a pecuniary success. The ancients built a canal 
at right angles to ours, because they knew it would not fill up if built 
in that direction, and they knew such an one as ours would. There 
were magnificent canals in the land of the Jews, with perfectly ar¬ 
ranged gates and sluices. We have only just begun to understand 
ventilation properly for our houses; yet late experiments at the Py¬ 
ramids in Egypt show that those Egyptian tombs were ventilated in 
the most perfect and scientific manner. Again, cement is modern, for 
the ancients dressed and jointed their stones so closely that in build¬ 
ings thousands of years old the thin blade of a penknife cannot be 
forced between them. The railroad dates back to Egypt. Arago 
has claimed that they had a knowledge of steam. A painting has 
been discovered of a ship full of machinery, and a French engineer 
said that the arrangement of this machinery could only be accounted 
for by supposing the motive power to have been steam. Brahama 
acknowledges that he took the idea of his celebrated lock from an 
ancient Egyptian pattern. De Tocqueville says there was no social 
question that was not discussed to rags in Egypt. 


234 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


HOW THE GREAT STOxNTES WERE MOVED. 


According to De Hass, a wide solid road-bed was constructed 
from the quarries to the river, about one mile, over which these pon¬ 
derous blocks of granite were moved on sledges or skids, with rollers 
placed beneath them, by direct physical force, thousands of slaves 
being employed to move a single stone. Portions of this roadway 
may still be seen, and the whole process truthfully represented in their 
sculptures, even to the overseers directing the work. But just how 
these immense blocks were finally elevated to their lofty places, and 
adjusted with nicety to their position, no writer has yet been able to 
explain. 








This celebrated tower is 179 feet high, and tips 13 feet from a 
perpendicular position. It was here that Galileo proved to the 
incredulous doctors that a big stone and a little one would fall 
to the earth in equal times. The tower is divided into eight 
stories, each having an exterior gallery projecting seven feet. The 
summit is reached by 330 steps. Its deflection was discovered dur¬ 
ing its erection, and the upper courses were shaped, so as in a measure 
to counteract the deflection from the perpendicular. The chimes of 
the seven bells at the top, the largest of which weighs 12,000 pounds, 
are so placed as to counterbalance, by their gravity, the leaning of the 
tower. 

HOW TO MEASURE THE SPEED OF TRAINS. 

A way to measure the speed of trains is to count the number of 
fish-plates passed in 14 y 2 seconds in the case of ordinary rails 21 feet 
long, and in the case of steel rails, which average in length 30 feet, 
2054 seconds—the number of plates passed in the time stated being 
equal to the number of miles traveled per hour_ Pall Mall Gazette. 












AND THE WISE. 


235 


The Seven Wonders op the World. 

F course, in a book like this, it would not be proper td omit 
mention of what in all recent ages have been mentioned as 
the Seven Wonders of the World. These were: 

i. Pyramids of Egypt, of which it may be said of Cheops, 
the largest of them all, that it is 764 feet square at the base, 
and including 20 feet at the apex that have been removed, is 
500 feet high. (The tower on the new City Flail, at Philadelphia, be¬ 
lieved to be the highest tower in the world, is 535 feet.) The pyra¬ 
mid contains 90,000,000 cubic feet of masonry, and covers an area of 
over 13 acres, being larger than Madison Square, New York, and twice 
the height of Trinity Church spire. There is enough material in 
this pyramid, says the author of Buried Cities , to build a city as large 
as Washington, including all its public buildings. Herodotus tells us 
400,000 men were employed 20 years in building it. It was the 
tomb of kings. 

2. The beautiful and immense Mausoleum which Artemisia 
erected in Halicarnassus to the memory of her husband, Mausolus, 
king of Caria. Concerning the tomb itself we know not much, 
but of Artemisia and of her excessive love for her husband, many 
stories are told, one of which is that her grief for his death was so 
great that she mixed his ashes with water and drank them off. 

3. The Temple of Diana, at Ephesus, the building of which 
occupied 220 years. The whole length of the temple was 425 feet, 
and the breadth 220 feet, with 127 columns of the Ionic order, in 
Parian marble, each a single shaft 60 feet high, and the gift of a king. 

4. The Walls and Hanging Gardens of Babylon. The walls were 
337 feet, 8 inches high and 84 feet, 6 inches broad. Inside the outer 
walls was a second of equal height. The famous hanging gardens 
were 400 feet square. They were carried up on arches above arches 
until the height equaled that of the city walls. On the top the soil 
was made so deep that large trees could take root in it. 

5. The Colossus at Rhodes, a celebrated brazen image. It was 
twelve years in building, and was so large that it is popularly con- 







236 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


sidered to have stood beside the mouth of the harbor, and that ships 
sailed between its feet. This, however, is doubtful. There were few 
persons who could reach round the thumb with both arms, and its 
fingers were larger than most statues. The cost was about $317,000. 

6. The Statue of Jupiter Olympus. This was by the famous 
sculptor Phidias. The god was represented as seated on his throne 
of gold, ebony, and ivory, and the figure was itself of ivory and gold; 
and, though seated, yet of such vast proportions it almost reached the 
ceiling of the temple, which was 68 feet high. 

7. The Pharos, a lighthouse 550 feet high, at Alexandria, Egypt. 
Its light could be seen 100 miles out at sea. This tower was de¬ 
signed as a memorial of the King Ptolemy, who ordered his name 
to be inscribed on the pediment. The story goes that the architect, 
however, first cut his own name in the marble, placing over it, in 
stucco, the name of the king. In a few years the name of the king 
was worn away, leaving that of Sostratus, the architect, to blaze for¬ 
ever on the front of the unrivaled monument. And yet, not forever, 
as no vestige of the monument has for ages been visible. 


-o>~i- 


■-6 


V 


-o>—<£= 



JMPlSITORS at Fort Hamilton, in New York harbor, have 
examined with a good deal of interest the enormous twenty- 
inch Rodman gun, mounted at the end of the tier of fifteen- 
inch guns which extends along the embankment for a quarter 
of a mile below the fort. A friend of the writer of this once crawled 
into the enormous bore. The gun weighs 116,400 pounds, is twenty 
feet, three and a half inches in length, and throws a projectile weighing 
1,100 pounds. The carriage for the gun weighs 36,000 pounds. The 
whole rests upon a granite foundation. The range of the gun is be¬ 
tween five and six miles. It was cast at the Fort Pitt Foundry, Pitts¬ 
burgh, Pa., by the method invented by General Rodman. During the 
process of the casting a fire is kept burning on the outside of the flask 
containing the mould, and a stream of water is kept flowing into the 











AND THE WISE. 


33 Z 

core barrel. By this means the gun is cooled from the inside, a reverse 
of all previous methods, and the iron next to the bore becomes solidi¬ 
fied first. Formidable as the Rodman gun appears from its size and 
weight, still it is a smooth bore, and our artillerists have gradually 
come to the conclusion that the great gun of the future will be a 
rifled gun. 

The armament of the British war-ship Inflexible consists, among 
other things, of four eighty-one ton guns, manufactured at the Royal 
Arsenal, at Woolwich. Their dimensions are as follows: Length 
over all, including the plug or button screwed in at the breech, 27 
feet; depth at breech, 6 feet; caliber in the first instance, 14 inches, 
to be afterward increased to 16 if found advisable; length of bore, 24 
feet. It throws a projectile weighing 1,100 pounds, the charge of 
powder weighing one-sixth of that. The penetrating power with 
the Pallisser or chilled shot would probably send the projectile through 
nineteen or twenty-inch armor, with backing necessary to sustain the 
weight of such ponderous plating. The projectiles will be considerably 
over four feet in length. The Inflexible herself has armor twenty- 
four inches in thickness on her turrets, and is as nearly as possible 
impregnable above water. 





_ _O 

LITTLE" wit is often better than a large amount of 
muscle. Many years ago, a Pittsburgh iron firm purchased a 
lot of condemned bombshells for old iron. The shells were 
not loaded, but in order to melt them it was necessary that 
they be broken up. This was attempted with sledge-ham¬ 
mers, but the laborers made but little progress, and it was finally 
given up as a bad job. One day a long, slim man came along, 
and said: « I understand you have a job for a man here.” “Yes,” was 
the reply, “we want that pile of bombs out there broken.” “How 
much will you pay?” “ We will give you a fip apiece (6^ cents) 
if you will agree to break them all.” “ I’ll take the contract,” said 








JFHE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 

the man. The day was a cold one, and the thermometer down to 
zero. The man immediately set to work, but disdained to take the 
large sledge hammer which was offered him. He laid every bomb 
out on the ground, with the hole up. He then filled them all with 
water; then he came into the house, made out his bill, and said he 
would call next morning for his pay. Every one was much mystified. 
But in the morning their astonishment was great. The water had 
frozen during the night, and in the morning a pile of scrap iron was 
found, as the freezing water had broken every bomb into at least a 
dozen pieces.— JV. 2 ". Observe?'. 




5 




3 lfT takes omy five minutes. You step on the stage, and the hand 
that guides the Titan at the surface touches the rein of his black 
monster, and you are plunged into the gloom. The cage stops, 
and you are more than a quarter of a mile below the busy city; 
<J^ from the dusty way you have stepped into the world’s grandest 
treasure-house; you have passed from the temperate to the trop¬ 
ical zone in a minute—you are in the Bonanza. 

It is no little thing to work a mine 1,500 feet below the surface. 
True, there are broad avenues; broad timbers, which, like Atlas, seem 
competent to support a world; there are engines at work and cars run¬ 
ning ; but every glimpse of the men reveals the exertion necessary 
to keep up this conflict with the spirits that guard the buried treasure 
below. The men are stripped to the waist, those brawny delvers, 
with perspiration bursting from every pore. 

It looks pleasant down there in the mimic streets and under the 
lantern’s glare; but before those streets were opened there was in the 
stifling air a work performed that cannot be calculated. Picks were 
swung, drills were struck, powder was burned, men fainted and fell in 
their places, but the work went on. So it will proceed in the future, 
until, probably, after another sixteen years, they will be working 3,000 
feet below the surface. 
















AND THE WISE. 


^39 



We Shall Travel in the Future. 


Aloft, in vast unpeopled realms of light, 

The great ship moves majestic, swift and fair; 

A wingless bird, yet daring in its flight, 

Finding its luminous way along the untraveled air. 



A LONG LOOK AHEAD. 





j RE air-ship, at first, will be used for the transmission of the 
|| mails and light express packages, and especially for their swift 
conveyance over sea 5 but soon the more adventuious and leso- 
lute, and finally, all classes of travelers, will avail themselves 
•t' of the great passenger aerobats, and enjoy the unsui passable 
(, luxury of flight, experiencing thrills of wonder and ecstacy, and 
" a sense of power, freedom, and safety, to which all former de¬ 
lights of travel may well seem tame by comparison. Edmund C. 

Stedman. 
















240 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 



x - v ^ X> ^ _ 

OME of the iron mines anciently worked by the Egyptians 
^SX have recently been discovered anew by English explorers, 
§ Wy and search is to be instituted for other ancient mines of sil- 
ver, gold and iron. As the processes followed in ancient 
'% o 3 times for the reduction of ores were very defective, it is 
expected that, in the debris accumulated in the neighborhood of 
the mines, an amount of the useful and precious metals will be 
found sufficient to make the working it over again profitable. At 
a recent meeting of the British Society of Antiquaries, mention 
was made of the discovery, in the vicinity of Mount Sinai, of the 
turquoise mines of the ancient Egyptians. The discoverer, an 
Englishman, observed in water courses of that region, which in sum¬ 
mer are dry, peculiar blue stones, which he soon ascertained to be 
turquoises. This circumstance led to further research. We are now 
informed that, “ aided by the friendly tribes he has taken into his 
pay, he has discovered the turquoise mines of the ancient Egyptians, 
the rocks that they worked for the stones, the very tools that they 
used, and their polishing and grinding places.” The fortunate dis¬ 
coverer has already sent to England some of the finest turquoises ever 
seen. 

While searching for the turquoise mines, the^same explorer dis¬ 
covered the ancient lines of fortifications surrounding the works, 
and came upon the remains of vast iron works, which must have 
employed many thousands of hands. Slag taken from the refuse- 
heaps around these works contains as much as 53 per cent, of iron. 
The whole surrounding district is well worthy of being thoroughly 
explored by the antiquary, as it contains many hieroglyphic inscrip¬ 
tions which would doubtless throw much light upon the early history 
of metallurgy. 

-O—o<>o*~o- 


The velocity with which a current or impulse will pass through 
the Atlantic cable has been ascertained to be between 7,000 and 
8,000 miles per second. 







AND IPHB WISE. 


m 




CORRESPONDENT of the New York Tribune , writing 
s& from Virginia City, Nev., gives the following account of the 
great Nevada flume: 

A fifteen-mile ride in a flume down the Sierra Nevada 
e ^T oP Mountains in thirty-five minutes was not one of the things 
contemplated in my visit to Virginia City, and it is entirely within 
reason to say that even if I should make this my permanent 
place of residence—which fortune forbid—I shall never make the 
trip again. The flume cost, with its appurtenances, between $200,- 
000 and $300,000—if it had cost a million it would be the 
same in my estimation. It was built by a company interested in 
the mines here, principally the owners of the Consolidated Vir¬ 
ginia, California, Hale & Norcross, Gould & Curry, Best & Bel¬ 
cher, and Utah mines. The largest stockholders in these mines 
are J. C. Flood, James G. Fair, John Mackay, and W. S. O’Brien, 
who compose without doubt the wealthiest firm in the United 
States. Taking the stock of their companies at the price quoted 
in the board, the amount they own is more than $100,000,000, and 
each has a large private fortune in addition. The mines named 
use 1,000,000 feet of lumber per month underground, and burn 
40,000 cords of wood per year. Wood is here worth from $10 to 
$12 a cord, and at market prices Messrs. Flood & Co. would have 
to pay nearly $^00,000 a year for wood alone. 

Going into the mine the other day, and seeing the immense 
amount of timber used, and knowing the incalculable amount 
of wood burned in the several mines and mills, I asked Mr. 
Mackay, who accompanied me, where all the wood and timber 
came from. 

“ It comes,” said he, “ from our lands in the Sierras, forty or fifty 
miles from here. We own over 12,000 acres in the vicinity of 
Washoe Lake, all of which is heavily timbered.” 

“ How do you get it here?” I asked. 

“ It comes,” said he, “ in our flume down the mountains, fifteen 
miles, and from our dumping grounds is brought by the Virginia & 
16 




242 THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 

Truckee Railroad to this city, about sixteen miles. You ought to 
see the flume before you go back; it is really a wonderful thing.” 

The flume is a wonderful piece of engineering work. It is built 
wholly upon trestle-work and stringers; there is not a cut in the whole 
distance, and the grade is so heavy that there is little danger of a 
jam. The trestle-work is very substantial, and is undoubtedly strong 
enough to support a narrow-gauge railway. It runs over foot-hills, 
through valleys, around mountains, and across canyons. In one place 
it is 70 feet high. The highest point of the flume from the plain is 
3,700 feet, and on an air-line from beginning to end the distance is 
eight miles, the course thus taking up seven miles in twists and turns. 
The trestle-work is thoroughly braced longitudinally and across, so 
that no break can extend farther than a single box, which is 16 feet. 
All the main supports, which are five feet apart, are firmly set in 
mudsills, and the boxes or troughs rest in brackets four feet apart. 
These again rest upon substantial stringers. The grade of the flume 
is between 1,600 and 2,000 feet from top to bottom—a distance, as 
previously stated, of 15 miles. The sharpest fall is three feet in six. 
There are two reservoirs from which the flume is fed. One is 1,100 
feet long and the other 600 feet. A ditch, nearly two miles long, 
takes the water to the first reservoir, whence it is conveyed 31-4 
miles to the flume through a feeder capable of carrying 450 inches of 
water. The whole flume was built in ten weeks. In that time all 
the trestle-work, stringers, and boxes were put in place. About 200 
men were employed on it at one time, being divided into four gangs. 
It required 2,000,000 feet of lumber, but the item which astonished 
me most was that there were 28 tons, or 56,000 pounds, of nails used 
in the construction of this flume. 

Mr. Flood and Mr. Fair had arranged for a ride in the flume, 
and I was challenged to go with them. Indeed, the proposition was 
put in this way—they dared me to go. I thought if men worth 
twenty-five or thirty million dollars apiece could afford to risk their 
lives, I could afford to risk mine, which isn’t worth half as much. 
So I accepted the challenge, and two “ boats” were ordered. These 
were nothing more than pig-troughs, with one end knocked out. The 
“boat” is built like the flume, V shaped, and fits into the flume. The 
grade of the flume at the mill is very heavy, and the water rushes 


AND THE WISE. 


243 


through it at railroad speed. The terrors of that ride can never be 
blotted from the memory of one of the party. I cannot give the 
reader a better idea of a flume-ride than to compare it to sliding 
down an old-fashioned eave-trough at an angle of 45 degrees, hang¬ 
ing in mid-air without support of roof or house, and extending a 
distance of fifteen miles. At the start we went at the rate of twenty 
miles an hour, which is a little less than the average speed of a rail¬ 
road train. 

The red-faced carpenter sat in front of our boat on the bottom as 
best he could. Mr. Fair sat on a seat behind him, and I sat behind 
Mr. Fair in the stern, and was of great service to him in keeping the 
water which broke over the end-board from his back. There was a 
great deal of water also shipped in the bows of the hog-trough, and 
I know Mr. Fair’s broad shoulders kept me from many a wetting 
in that memorable trip. At the heaviest grades, the water came in 
so furiously in front that it was impossible to see where we were 
going, or what was ahead of us; but when the grade was light and 
we were going at a three or four-minute pace, the view was very de¬ 
lightful, although it was terrible. 

When the water would enable me to look ahead, I could see 
this trestle here and there for miles, so small and so narrow and ap¬ 
parently so fragile that I could only compare it to a chalk-mark upon 
which, high in the air, I was running at a rate unknown to railroads. 
One circumstance during the trip did more to show me the terrible 
rapidity with which we dashed through the flume, than anything else. 
We had been rushing down at a pretty lively rate of speed when 
the boat suddenly struck something in the bow, a nail, a lodged stick 
of wood, or some secure substance which ought not to have been 
there. What was the effect? The red-faced carpenter was sent 
whirling into the flume ten feet ahead. Fair was precipitated on his 
face, and I found a soft lodgment on Fair’s back. It seems to me 
that in a second’s time Fair, himself a powerful man, had the carpen¬ 
ter by the scruff of the neck, and had pulled him into the boat. I did 
not know that at this time Fair had his fingers crushed between the 
boat and the flume. But we sped along; minutes seemed hours. It 
seemed an hour before we arrived at the worst place in the flume, 
and yet Hereford tells me it was less than ten minutes. The flume 


244 THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 

at the point alluded to must have very near 45 degrees’ inclination. In 
looking out, before we reached it, I thought the only way to get to 
the bottom was to fall. How our boat kept in the track is more than 
I know. The wind, the steamboat, the railroad, never went so fast. 
In this particularly bad place I allude to, my desire was to form some 
judgment of the speed we were making. If the truth must be 
spoken, I was really scared almost out of reason, but if I were on 
my way to eternity I wanted to know exactly how fast I went. So 
I huddled close to Fair, and turned my eyes toward the hills. Every 
object I placed my eyes on was gone before I could plainly see what 
it was. Mountains passed like visions and shadows. It was with 
difficulty that I could get my breath. I felt that I did not weigh a 
hundred pounds, although I knew in the sharpness of intellect which 
one has at such a moment, that the scales turned at two hundred. Mr. 
Flood and Mr. Hereford, although they started several minutes later 
than we, were close upon us. They were not so heavily loaded, and 
they had the full sweep of the water, while we had it rather at 
second-hand. Their boat finally struck ours with a terrible crash. 
Mr. Flood was thrown upon his face, and the waters flowed over 
him. What became of Hereford I do not know, except that 
when we reached the terminus of the flume he was as wet as any 
one of us. 

This only remains to be said: We made the entire distance in less 
time than a railway train would ordinarily make, and a portion of the 
distance we went faster than a railway train ever went. Fair said we 
went at least a mile a minute; Flood said we went at the rate of a 
hundred miles an hour, and my deliberate belief is that we went at 
a rate that annihilated time and space. 

We were a wet lot when we reached the terminus of the flume. 
Flood said he would not make the trip again for the whole Consoli¬ 
dated Virginia mine. Fair said that he should never again place him¬ 
self on an equality with timber and wood, and Hereford said he was 
sorry he ever built the flume. As for myself, I told the millionaires 
that I had accepted my last challenge. When we left our boats we 
were more dead than alive. The next day neither Flood nor Fair 
was able to leave his bed. For myself, I have only the strength to 
say that I have had enough of flumes. 


AND THE WISE. 


THE TAJ MAHAL. 

.liUNTAZ MAHAL was the queen of Shah Jehan, one of the 
^ East Indian emperors. She died more than two hundred years 

ago, and, at her dying request, her husband built a costly mon¬ 
ument to her memory. It is called the Taj Mahal, and is on 
’he bank of the Jumna River, about one mile east of the Agra fort, 
and in the midst of a most beautiful garden. The building is of 
marble, almost entirely white. It is so beautiful that it has been called 
a “ marble poem.” It cost about nine million dollars, and took twenty 
thousand workmen seventeen years to build it. In the vault below 
the central hall lie the remains of the emperor and empress. Her 
tomb occupies the very center, and his is by her side. The light is 
made to fall directly upon her tomb, which is of white marble, and 
beautifully decorated. In the hall above are cenotaphs to their 
memory.— Condensed Exti'act. 


• 1 = 2 - 


-J) 


«- 


7©—£4 



incident happened in Machinery Hall, yesterday afternoon, 
which is well worth recording, as it exhibits the unparalleled 
advancement of American genius in small as well as in great 
things. AVhile a large throng of visitors from all countries 
were standing silently around the mighty Corliss engine, 
watching its gigantic movements with feelings partly of 
delight and partly of awe, a tall, gentlemanly-looking personage, 
who afterward gave his name and address as Levi Taylor, of 
Indianola, Iowa, joined the crowd, and with the others paid un¬ 
spoken yet eloquent homage to the wondrous monster before him. 
After watching the motions for a few moments, the gentleman 
passed around to one side, and extracted from his pocket a small tin 
case, took from it what appeared like a diminutive alcohol lamp, and, 
striking a match, started a miniature flame, and placed the contrivance 













246 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


on a corner of the platform which surrounds the mighty giant from 
Rhode Island. 

At the first glance, nothing could be discerned over this lamp but 
a small excrescence, which looked more like a very juvenile humming 
bird than anything else, but a close inspection showed that what was 
mistaken for lilliputian wings was the flying wheel of a perfect steam 
engine, and persons with extra good eyes could, after a close examina¬ 
tion, discover some of the other parts of the curious piece of mechanism. 
This engine has for its foundation a 25-cent gold piece, and many of 
its parts are so tiny that they cannot be seen without a magnifying 
glass. It has the regular steam gauge, and, though complete in every 
particular, the entire apparatus weighs seven grains, while the engine 
proper weighs but three grains. It is made of gold, steel, and pla¬ 
tinum. The fly-wheel is only three-fourths of an inch in diameter; 
the stroke is one twenty-fourth of an inch, and the cut-off one sixty- 
fourth of an inch. The machinery, which can all be taken apart, was 
packed in films of silk .—Philadelphia Press during Centennial. 




r|fHE first nine-inch shot which struck the Albemarle staggered 
a dozen men, and made a dozen others cry out. I have talked 
with fifty different men who have fought on board of rams 
or iron-clads, and all agree that the sound of a heavy shot 
zP striking the iron armor is something which has no compari¬ 



son. The heavier the wood backing the less echo there is when 
struck, but the jar of every shot is plainly felt all over the craft. To 
the noise of the enemy’s shot is added the fire of the heavy guns aboard, 
and it is no wonder that some men are made deaf for days afterward. 

At one time during the fight of the Albemarle, she received from 
thirty-five to forty shots per minute. Men who had cotton in their 
ears compared the situation to one being in a cavern and hearing a 
thunderstorm raging outside. Those whose ears were wide open 
were almost deafened, and the flames of well-trimmed lamps died 












AND THE WISE. 




away, and were totally extinguished under the outside pounding. 
This fight accidentally revealed the fact that one who placed a small 
pellet of cotton in each ear and some substance in his mouth to keep 
his teeth apart, suffered the least of all. This same thing was after* 
ward tried on board of Federal mortar-schooners, and took awa*r 
much of the unpleasant sensation.— Anonymous. 




Venice, 


op 


UT one of the most wonderful things about Venice is that, 
with the exception of those I intend to tell you about, there 
are no horses there. How charming it must be, you think, 


^ when you want to visit a friend, to run down the marble 

Iir"/ 

steps of some old palace, step into a gondola, and glide swift- 
ly and noiselessly away, instead of jolting and rumbling 


along over the cobble-stones! And then to come back by moon¬ 
light, and hear the low plash of the oar in the water, and the dis¬ 
tant voices of the boatmen singing some love-sick song—oh, it’s as 
good as a play. 

Of course there are no carts in Venice; and the fish-man, the veg¬ 
etable man, the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker, all 
glide swiftly up in their boats to the kitchen door with their vendibles, 
and chaffer and haggle with the cook for half an hour, after the man¬ 
ner of market-nfen the world over. 

So you see, the little black-eyed Venetian boys and girls gaze on 
the brazen horses in St. Mark’s Square with as much wonder and 
curiosity as ours when we look upon a griffin or unicorn. 

These horses—there are four of them—have quite a history of 
their own. They once formed part of a group made by a celebrated 
sculptor of antiquity, named Lysippus. He was of such acknowledged 
merit that he was one of the three included in the famous edict of 
Alexander, which gave to Apelles the sole right of painting his 
portrait, to Lysippus that of sculpturing his form in any style, and to 
Pvrgoteles that of engraving it upon precious stones. 








248 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL. 


Lysippus executed a group of twenty-five equestrian statues of the 
Macedonian horses that fell at the passage of the Granicus, and of this 
group the horses now at Venice formed a part. They were carried 
from Alexander to Rome by Augustus, who placed them on his 
triumphal arch. Afterward, Nero, Domitiamand Trajan, successfully 
transferred them to arches of their own. 

When Constantine removed the capital of the Roman empire to 
the ancient Byzantium, he sought to beautify it by all means in his 
power, and for this purpose he removed a great number of works of 
art from Rome to Constantinople, and among them these bronze 
horses of Lysippus. 

In the early part of the thirteenth century, the nobles of France and 
Germany, who were going on the fourth crusade, arrived at Venice, 
and stipulated with the Venetians for means of transport to the holy 
land. But, instead of proceeding to Jerusalem, they were diverted 
from their original intention, and, under the leadership of the blind old 
doge, Dandolo, they captured the city of Constantinople. The fall of 
the city was followed by an almost total destruction of the works of 
art by which it had been adorned; for the Latins disgraced themselves 
by a more ruthless vandalism than that of the Vandals themselves. 

But out of the wreck the four bronze horses were saved and carried 
in triumph to Venice, where they were placed over the central porch 
of St. Mark’s Cathedral. There they stood until Napoleon Bona¬ 
parte, in 1797, removed them, with other trophies, to Paris; but after 
his downfall they were restored, and, as Byron says in “ Childe 
Harold,” 

“ Before St. Mark still glow his steeds of brass, 

Their gilded collars glittering in the sun.” 



Not the least among the wonderful things found in nature is 
the Bombadier Beetle. Turn over old rails and lo£ S in the edo- e of 
the woods, and there will scamper away a little red-bodied beetle. If 
you listen you will hear a little discharge, as of a miniature cannon 
followed by a little puff of smoke. The insect is properly named. 






AND THE WISE. 


249 


j4 




«rz£3^e 

jR. WILLIAM WEBB, of London, has produced a curi¬ 
osity in microscopic writing. He has accomplished the 
feat by means of machinery on glass, with the aid of 
a diamond. The writing consists of the Lord’s Prayer, 
which is written upon glass within a space equal to one 
two hundred and ninety-fourth part of an inch in length, by one four 
hundred and fortieth part of an inch in width, a space corresponding 
to the dot over the printed leter i. The dot of writing has been 
enlarged by means of the photograph so as to occupy a space of about 
two inches long by one and a half inches broad. The photograph 
brings the words out legibly, the number of letters being 227. Such 
is the fineness of the original writing that 29,431,458 letters written 
the same way would only cover one square inch of glass surface. The 
whole Bible, including the Old and New Testaments, contains 3,566,- 
480 letters; therefore, Mr. Webb could write the entire contents of 
more than eight Bibles within the space of one square inch. Two 
specimen plates of this microscopic writing have been produced for 
the United States Museum at Washington, at a cost of $50 each. 
The Webb machine, however, does not equal, in the fineness of writ¬ 
ing, or the perfection it has attained, a similar machine, the invention 
of Mr. Peters, a wealthy banker of London. This machine produced 
writing as long ago as 1855, nearly three times as fine as that of Mr. 
Webb’s. It was competent to engrave the entire contents of the Bible, 
twenty-two times'over, within the space of a single square inch. 


-'b-'ir 






The following is the shortest and most accurate method known for 
computing interest. It is worth preserving. Multiply the principal 
by the number of days, and divide— 

If at 5 per cent, by 7,200. If at 9 per cent, by 4,000. If at 13 per cent, by 2,760- 

If at 6 per cent, by 6,000. If at 10 per cent, by 3,600. If at 14 per cent, by 2,571- 

If at 7 per cent, by 5,143. If at 11 per cent, by 3,273. If at 15 per cent, by 2,400 

If at 8 per cent by 4,500. If at 12 per cent, by 3,000. 









260 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


THE GREAT CINCINNATI ORGAN. 


A'anr 


ImHE organ in the Cincinnati Music Hall is the largest one ever 
built in this country, and ranks about the fourth or firth in size 
w in the world. It is 50 feet wide, 30 feet deep, and 60 feet high. 
There are 6,237 pipes, and 96 stops. We are informed that the design 
of the case was drawn by some of the most talented pupils of the Art 
School. To give an idea by comparison of the size of this instrument, 
we append the number of pipes and stops in some of the very largest 
European organs. That in the Albert Hall, London, is the largest in 
the world. Albert Hall organ, 111 stops, 7,879 pipes; St. Sulpice, 
Paris, 100 stops, 6,706 pipes; Cathedral at Ulm, 100 stops, 6,564 
pipes; St. George’s Hall, Liverpool, 100 stops. The interior of the 
Cincinnati Music Hall is of tulip wood, finished in oil. It is 192 feet 
long, 112 feet wide, and 70 feet high. The stage is 112 feet wide by 
56 feet deep.— The Christian Union. 




THE GREAT STRASBUl 

^HIS remarkable clock on the great cathedral at Strasburg, was 
finished in 1574. At midnight on the 31st of December the 
clock is wound to run a year. The dial on the lower section 
shows the old zodiac; on the section above are four dials, for 
the months, days of the week, days of the month, and the moon’s 
phases. In the side alcoves are the figures of Time with his scythe, 
and Justice with her scale. Above the dial is a keystone, with a 
door in the center. Above, the top section represents a chapel, 
with a small door at either side, a large one in the center, and 
over it a balcony. Every half hour a bell is heard, the keystone 
opens, and Death appears. Two or three minutes after, a chime 
of twenty bells is rung, and from the right-hand door of the chapel 
the Apostles appear, pass one by one in procession before the center 












A CENTENNIAL, BEAUTY 

























































■ 
































































































































































































































































































































































































































AND THE WISE. 


351 


door, which also opens, and shows the Saviour standing' in the 
doorway, to whom all the Apostles bow, save Peter, and whose 
salutation the Saviour acknowledges. When Peter appears, he turns 
aside, a cock on the right corner outside the chapel crows, and from 
the door in the balcony above Satan appears, looks at Peter, and dis¬ 
appears. A Roman sentinel on the left turns and gazes at the pro¬ 
cession of Apostles until they have entered the small door on the left 
of the chapel, when he resumes his position. The last Ajxjstle is 
Judas, and on his appearance Satan again shows himself. 







mPI TANDING on the rear platform of the train, the eyes are 


ojDen to take in all the sights to be seen. The train enters a 


narrow, rocky defile, which contracts as you proceed, and— 


crack!—you are running along under a natural stone arch, 
f* with your mouth and eyes suddenly full of smoke and cin¬ 


ders. You beat a hasty retreat into the cars, and, looking out 
at the rear window, you admire the effect of the receding light at 
the entrance, and the damp, darkly-glistening sides of the tunnel. 
In a few seconds the light at the entrance becomes a faint, distant 
speck, and after a few twinkles through the gloom becomes lost to 
sight, and you look at such blackness as you never beheld above ground 
on the darkest night of your earthly existence—such darkness that 
the reflection of your own face in the car window gazes at you with a 
half awe-stricken expression, and it really might seem that the train 
had cut loose from earth and sunlight, and was whirling its fourscore 
passengers through the realm of Nowhere over a track of Nothing¬ 
ness. The speed of the engine seems tremendous. There is a harsh 
rattle and clank about the motion of the train that seems almost odd. 
Why should anything make such a loud noise where it is so dark as 
this ? Flash! There are four specks of flame which fly up before you 
and drop behind as quickly. They are the lanterns of the workmen. 





^ THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 

Suddenly the conception of the tremendous work, the awful under¬ 
taking of burrowing five miles through the interminable rocks, comes 
across you, and you pity those lonely miners for a moment. Then 
you hear the locomotive give a hoarse roar, which is caught up by a 
thousand demon echoes and hurled back and forward from rocky wall 
to wall, till it dies away in the Egyptian darkness. A faint glow 
shimmering along the slimy'sides warns you that you are coming to 
some light ahead; and in a moment you pass two lanterns, one sus¬ 
pended above the other. Near by you catch a faint but terribly sug¬ 
gestive glimpse of a rope ladder hanging from “the central shaft,” 
which extends from the center of the tunnel to the mountain top. You 
are half way through. Eight minutes have passed since you entered 
the east end. Again the faint, inefficient gleam of the light dies away, 
flickering feebly in the distance, and you are alone with the subterran¬ 
ean night. The darkness is oppressive. One would think that he 
could perhaps catch a glimpse of the side walls at times, but his efforts 
are only rewarded by an accurate reflection of the inside of the car. 
This is so oppressive that when you approach daylight at the western 
end you are quite rejoiced to see the bright and beautiful sunshine 
again. At first you begin to see faint shadows drift by the windows; 
then these faint shadows become dripping rocks; then they reveal 
themselves plainer and plainer, until, with a grand burst, which sets 
you to blinking like a scared owl, you emerge from the western end 
of the tunnel, and, looking back, see “ Hoosac 1874,” cut in the granite 
coping which adorns the entrance. You have been about fifteen min- 
utes in coming through .—Boston Globe, 



The standard weight, among scientific men, is distilled water. It 
is a purely arbitrary standard, but selected, probably, because water is 
the simplest and most universal element that can be readily used for 
such a purpose. The weight of water being taken as one, the specific 
gravity or weight of other things is reckoned from it, being either 
greater or less. A cubic foot of water weighs sixty-two pounds and 


AND THE WISE. 


a half; of gold, twelve hundred and three pounds and five-eighths of 
a pound; of silver, six hundred and fifty-four pounds and four-fifths of 
a pound; of cast iron, four hundred and fifty pounds and nine- 
twentieths of a pound. 





Bayard Taylor at the Pyramids. 

jAYARD TAYLOR, in a letter from Egypt, says of the scene 
in the vicinity of the Pyramids: “ Nothing could be lovelier 
than the intensely green wheat lands, stretching away to the 
Libyan Desert, bounded on the south with thick fringes of palm. 
The winds blowing over them come to us sweet with the odor 
of white clover blossoms; larks sang in the air, snowy ibises stood 
pensively on the edges of sparkling pools, and here and there a boy 
sang some shrill, monotonous Arab song. In the east, the citadel- 
mosque stretched its two minarets like taper fingers averting the 
evil eye; and in front of us the pyramids seemed to mock all the 
later power of the world. Not forty, but sixty centuries look down 
upon us from those changeless peaks. They ante-date all other human 
records, except those of the dynasty immediately preceding that which 
built them. Hebrew, Sanscrit, and Chinese history seem half modern 
when one stands at the foot of the piles which were almost as old as 
the Coliseum is now when Abraham was born. 


* ^ ■■ «•»» 

VALUABLE TABLE. 

The following table will be useful to those of our readers who may 
at any time deal in the articles enumerated. Every farmer should paste 
this in his scrap book: 

Article. Pounds. Article. Pounds. Article. Pounds. 

Firkin of butter. 56 Barrel of potatoes.... 200 Barrel of onions. 112 

Barrel of flour. 196 Barrel of gunpowder, 200 Barrel of beef..206 

Barrel of pork.200 Barrel of fish. 56 Chest of tea. 68 

Gallon of honey. 12 Quintal of fish. 100 Bushel of charcoal... 30 

Cord of dry maple.. .2862 Cord of dry hickory. .4369 


















THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


2S4 


! N the progress of aerial navigation, the subject of flying has been 
studied with more or less favorable results. It was related by 
!jj| several authors that the famous John Muller constructed an arti- 
ficial eagle at Nuremberg which flew out to meet the Emperor 
Charles V., and accompanied him back to town. At a later time we 
are told of a certain monk named Elmerus who flew about a furlong 
from the top of a tower in Spain. Another flight was attempted from 
St. Mark’s steeple in Venice, and also at Nuremberg, and by means of 
a pair of wings a person named Dante, of Pero, was enabled to fly, but 
while amusing the citizens with his flight, he fell on the top of St. 
Mary’s Church and broke his thigh. It is asserted that Leonardo da 
Vinci, the great painter, practised flying successfully. This is not au¬ 
thenticated, however. Carperus contended that the difficulty of flying 
by the use of artificial wings fastened to the body, can be attained. Bar- 
relli, a Neapolitan mathematician, asserts that after having examined 
with care a comparison of the strength of the muscles of a man to those 
of a bird, it is impossible to fly by means of wings fastened to the body. 
Under this view of the case, says Professor Wise, we may safely 
steer a middle course, neither denying the one nor positively assuming 
the other, but leaving to the age of improvement in which we live 
what may be accomplished by both plans. 



FINDING THE MERIDIAN. 

Mr. George W. Blunt, of New York, who knows as much about 
nautical matters as any gentleman we know, gives the following sim¬ 
ple mode for running a meridian line: 

Take a piece of board, or any similar material, and describe on it 
a number of concentric circles. Place this in the sun; over the center 
hang a plummet. Observe the shortest shadow from the plummet; 
the sun will then be on the meridian; draw a line to the center of the 
circle, and that will be the true meridian line. This will do to mark 
the apparent time, or to correct the compass for variation. 









AND THE WISE. 


Mow Vast are the British Dominions . 


The following are the figures, given in Appleton’s Cyclopaedia, of 
the extent and population of that great empire, on which it is said 
“the sun never sets:” 


AREA 

MILES. POPULATION. 

In Europe. 121,000 32,000,000 

In Asia.1,640,000 200,000,000 

In America.3,700,000 5,000,000 

In Africa.. 250,000 1,700,000 

In Australia.3,100,000 2,000,000 


8,811,000 240,700,000 

These figures need no comment. The United States has only 
50,000,000 inhabitants now, but it bothered England some when it 
didn’t have but 3,000,000. The 200,000,000 of England’s subjects in 
Asia don’t count so very heavy in the race of civilization; but they 
help pay taxes, just the same. 




The Chinese Method of Printing . 



W HE Chinese having about 8,000 different letters, type-found¬ 
ries are out of the question, and consequently there are no 
type settefs among them; but they follow the primitive way 
of printing from engraved wooden blocks. In fact, with 
them xylography does what typography does for us. The matter 
to be printed is first written by means of a kind of transfer ink upon 
thin paper, and this is pasted, face downward, upon a block of a pear 
or a plum tree. When dry, the paper is rubbed with care, and leaves 
behind an inverted impression of the characters. Another workman 
now cuts away all the blank spaces by means of a sharp graver, and 
the block, with the characters in high relief, passes to the printer, who 
performs his work by hand. The two points that he has to be most 
careful about are, to ink the characters equally, and to avoid tearing 


















THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


the impression by means ot a brush similar to our proof brush. 
Printing presses are not used. Proclamations, visiting cards, etc., are 
printed in the same manner. An economical way of printing small 
handbills and advertisements for walls, is to cut the characters in wax 
instead of wood; but they soon get blurred, and the printing from 
them is often almost illegible. From a good wooden block some 
thousands of sheets can be printed, and when the characters have been 
sharpened up a little, it is possible to obtain 8,000 or 10,000 more im¬ 
pressions. They claim to have practiced this method more than four 
thousand years ago, while we commenced to print from wooden blocks 
only in the fourteenth century.— The Lithographer. 







3< 5~— c.2<>_ 




1 HE very name of the lead pencil, like so many others that 
have become familiar as household words, is a misnomer, for 
there is no lead in it. Red lead is an oxide of lead, and 
white lead is a carbonate of the same metal, but black lead 
is neither a metal nor a compound of metal. It is, as most 
of our readers are aware, one of the forms of that very common but 
very interesting element, carbon; and is also known as plumbago 
and as graphite. 

There are several pencil manufactories in Keswick, England. The 
“ leads” for the best pencils, as we are told, were formerly sawed out 
from masses of the pure graphite then yielded by the Borrowdale 
mine; but the only mine now furnishing masses large enough for 
the purpose, is in Siberia. At present the smaller fragments of graph¬ 
ite are ground fine, calcined, and mixed with pure clay, which has 
been prepared by diffusing it through water, allowing the coarser 
particles to settle, drawing off the milky liquid from the top, and 
letting it settle again. This latter sediment is exceedingly fine and 
plastic, and after being dried on linen filters, is fit for use. It is mixed 
with the powdered graphite in various proportions, according to the 













AND THE WISE. 


257 

degree of hardness required in the pencil; two parts of clay to one of 
graphite being used for a fine, hard grade, equal parts for a soft one, 
and intermediate mixtures for the grades between. The materials 
after being mixed are triturated or kneaded with water till they are of 
the consistency of dough. This dough is pressed into grooves in a 
smooth board, dried in this mould by a moderate heat, then taken out 
and baked in covered crucibles in a furnace. Sometimes the dough 
is compressed in a strong receiver and forced out through a small hole 
in a thread of the shape required, then dried and baked as above. 
The grade of the lead depends partly upon the degree of heat to 
which it is exposed in the furnace. Leads intended for very fine 
work, like architectural drawing, are reheated after the baking, arid 
immersed in melted wax or suet. 

The wood used for all the better kinds of pencils is the Florida red 
cedar, which is thoroughly seasoned, cut into strips, dried again, and 
then cut into pieces of the proper size for pencils. These are grooved 
by machinery, the leads are glued into the groove, and the other half 
of the wood is glued on. After being dried under pressure, they are 
rounded or otherwise shaped by a kind of lathe or cutting-machine; 
then polished by another machine, and sometimes painted or varnished 
by a third, which feeds the pencils from a hopper and turns them 
round under the brush. At Keswick the best pencils never go 
through this latter process, but are finished by simple polishing. 
They are next cut the right length by a circular saw, and the ends 
made smooth by a drop-knife, after which they are stamped with a 
heated die and sent to the packing-room. 

The small leads for “ ever-pointed” pencils are made either from 
the natural masses of graphite or from a composition of graphite and 
clav, prepared as already described, and baked .—Boston "Journal of 
Chemistry. 


^cxXDOo-^-^ 


The maximum depth of the ocean has never been ascertained. 
Soundings were obtained in the South Atlantic in iS^3» fh® depth 
of 48,000 feet, or about nine miles. The average depth of the ocean 
has been estimated as about 2,000 fathoms. 

17 






2S8 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL 




Tl 



(IIE correspondent of the London Daily Telegraph at Paris, 
■ 1 ‘ writes: “The crown jewels of France have returned to us. 
At the turn of the war they were secretly dispatched to Eng- 
^ land, and only last week was it judged safe to recall them. In 
number, according to the inventory made for Louis XVIII., they were 
already 64,812, weighing 18,751. carats, of ,£837,000 value. Since 
that time precious stones have risen enormously in price, and the late 
Emperor added to his treasures. The crown of France in which is 
set the ‘ Regent ’ diamond and 5,360 other jewels, was valued at 
£310,000 half a century ago. The other famous diamond, the 
< Saucy,’ is set in the first Emperor’s sword, a knick-knack priced at 
near £11,000. A plaque in brilliants of the order of the Holy Ghost, 
is calculated at £16,000. The crown jewels of France were stolen 
on August 16, 1792, by a band of forty thieves, who climbed the 
lamp posts and broke through a window of the gem house. A poor 
wretch was guillotined for this offence, whereof he was perfectly inno¬ 
cent; but one guiltless head more or less made small difference in 
1792.” 



LARGEST 



According to the “ American Manufacturer,” the six largest steam¬ 
ships in the world are the Great Eastern, owned by the International 
Telegraph and Construction Company, 673 feet long, 77 feet broad; 
the City of Pekin, some months ago launched on the Delaware River 
for the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, 6,000 tons, 423 feet 
long, 41 feet broad; the Liguria, of the Pacific Steam Navigation 
Company, 4,820 tons, 460 feet long, 45 feet broad; the Brittanic, of 
the White Star line, 4,700 tons, 455 feet long, 45 feet broad; the City 
of Richmond, of the Inman line, 4,600 tons, 4531^ feet long, 43 feet 
broad; and the Bothnia, of the Cunard line, 4,500 tons, 425 feet long, 
41 y 2 feet broad. 











AND THE WISE. 




— 1 0 > — 03 - 

p&HINA has the largest population of any country in the world. 
It has the longest and greatest wall ever built; and it has, also, 
the largest and most fertile garden ever cultivated. 

The Chinamen who walk over bridges built 2,000 years ago, 
who cultivated the cotton plant centuries before this country was 
heard of, and who fed silkworms before King Solomon built his throne, 
have 50,000 square miles around Shanghai, which are called the 
Garden of China, and which have been tilled for countless generations. 
This area is as large as New York and Pennsylvania combined; is all 
meadow land, raised but a few feet above the river—lakes, rivers, 
canals, a complete network of water communication ; the land under 
the highest tilth ; three crops a year harvested ; population so dense 
that wherever you look you see men and women in blue pants and 
blouse, so numerous that you fancy some fair or muster coming off, 
and all hands have turned out for a holiday. 


of the Grba t Cities. 


Berlin, Germany . . . 

Canton, China. 

London, England. . 

Paris, France. 

Siangtan, China . .. 
Sin-Gan-Foo, China 
New York. 


1,122,385 
1,500,000 

4 > 7 6 4 > 3 13 
2,225,900 
1 , 000,000 
1 , 000,000 
1,206,299 


Hence it will be seen that there are but seven cities in the world 


that can boast of a population of 1,000,000, and that London leads the 


seven. 


-g—sg»-Of 



Soldiers are shot in a battle according to the color of their dress, 
as follows: Red, 12; dark green, 7; brown, 6; bluish gray, 5. 













260 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


MOW ARTIFICIAL ICB IS MADE. 


-" 7 ^- 



N Montgomery, Ala., natural ice is not known, nor snow, except 
in flurries, melting as fast as it falls. A company has therefore 


and so successful has it become that manufactured ice is much 
cheaper than it can be afforded when imported from the Northern lakes. 
The company was organized last year, and still some prejudice exists 
against its commodity, but this is rapidly disappearing. It certainly 
ought to, for we never saw a purer article. The gentlemanly mana¬ 
ger of the establishment received our party very kindly, and ex¬ 
plained the process of ice making to us very fully. The water is first 
distilled, that is changed to steam, and then condensed so that it is 
perfectly pure. It is then poured into tin vessels about twenty-four 
inches long, twelve inches wide, and one and a half inches thick, open 
at the end. There are a number of tanks or vats divided into com¬ 
partments made a little larger than these vessels, and having the space 
between them filled with a net-work of iron pipes. When the tin 
vessels are filled with water they are placed in these compartments, 
covered with a light wood cover, and surrounded with strong brine. 
The freezing mixture—ether prepared from sulphuric acid and alcohol, 
and condensed to a liquid by immense pressure—is then turned on. it 
enters the jfipes, where, upon being relieved from pressure, it sud¬ 
denly expands into gas, producing a temperature many degrees below 
zero. This causes the brine which surrounds the pipes and tin cans 
to become of the same temperature, and to freeze the water solid in 
about four hours, the brine remaining liquid. The cans are then 
taken out and dipped in hot water, when the cake of ice, as clear and 
as transparent as glass, slips easily out of the can. The ice is rinsed 
in cold water and piled up, the pieces freezing together and making 
solid cakes about a foot thick. These are then hoisted into an ice¬ 
house adjoining, where they are stored until used. The chemicals are 
all recondensed and used over and over again. A forty-horse power 
engine is used in driving the machinery. About twelve tons of ice 
are manufactured daily. The net cost is about three-eighths of a cent 
a pound, and it is sold at seventy-five cents per hundred. 









AND THE WISE. 


261 



Grba t Washing ton Monument . 

gfHIS is now becoming one of the wonders of the seat of 
' ^ government, though for many years it was the laughing stock 
f^P> of the country. It is now some 350 odd feet high; when 
completed it will be 554 feet high, overtopping the famous 
cathedral at Cologne by forty-three feet. The foundations were fin¬ 
ished in 1880, and it will be ready for dedication, it is hoped, by the 
next 4th of July. It will cost altogether $1,000,000. At the base 
it is 55 eac h of its four sides. Above the 500th foot each side 

of the cone is 35 feet. The lower part is of granite, with a marble 
facing. The upper portion of the cone will be entirely of white 
marble. Some of the slabs have been sent from foreign countries 
One is from Greece, another from Turkey, and others from China 
and Siam. Other stones again are gifts from several States in the 
Union. We should not begrudge the money spent on memorials 
of our great men. They honor alike the monument builders and 
noble men whose services they commemorate. This structure will 
be one of the first things to impress the traveler with the splendor 
of our Capitol. It is situated upon the bank of the Potomac, from 
which the great white marble shaft will pierce the clouds, and will be 
outlined against the blue of the sky.— Demores?s Monthly. 



A legal stone is 14 pounds in England, and 16 pounds in Holland. 
A fathom, 6 feet, is derived from the height of a full grown man. A 
hand, in horse measure, is 4 inches. An Irish mile is 2,240 yards; a 
Scotch mile is 1,9845 a German, 1,806; a Turkish, 1,626. An acie 
is 1,840 square yards, 1 foot, and 3!^ inches, each way. A squaie 
mile, 1,760 yards each way, contains 640 acres. The human body con¬ 
sists of 246 bones, 9 kinds of articulations or joinings, 100 cartilages 








THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


262 


or ligaments, 540 muscles or tendons, besides nerves, blood arteries, 
veins, etc. There are no solid rocks in the Arctic regions, owing to 
the severe frosts. The surface of the sea is estimated at 150,000,000 
square miles .—Scientific A?nerican. 



THE STORY OP THE CABLE . 

fHERE is a faith so expansive and a hope so elastic that a man 
jp having them will keep on believing and hoping till all danger 
e? is passed, and victory is sure. When I talk across an ocean 

3, 000 miles, with my friends on the other side of it, and feel 
that I may know any hour of the day if all goes well with them, 
I think with gratitude of the immense energy and perseverance 
of that one man, Cyrus W. Field, who spent so many years of his 
life in perfecting a communication second only in importance to the 
discovery of this country. The story of his patient striving during 
all that stormy period is one of the noblest records of American 
enterprise, and only his own family know the whole of it. It 
was a long, hard struggle! Thirteen years of anxious watching 
and ceaseless toil! Think what that enthusiast accomplished by 
his untiring energy. He made fifty voyages across the Atlantic, 
and when everything looked darkest for his enterprise, his cour¬ 
age never flagged for an instant. He must have suffered priva¬ 
tions and dangers manifold. Think of him in those gloomy per¬ 
iods pacing the decks of ships on dark, stormy nights, in mid¬ 
ocean, or wandering in the desolate forests of Newfoundland in 
pelting rains, comfortless and forlorn. I saw him in 1858, immediately 
after the first cable had ceased to throb. Public excitement had grown 

o 

wild over the mysterious working of those flashing wires, and when 
they stopped speaking the reaction was intense. Stockholders, as well 
as the public generally, grew exasperated and suspicious; unbelievers 
sneered at the whole project, and called the telegraph a hoax from the 
beginning. They declared that never a message had passed through the 
unresponsive wires, and that Cyrus Field was a liar! The odium cast 
upon him was boundless. He was the butt and the by-word of his time 













AND THE WISE. 


263 

It was at this moment I saw him, and I well remember how 
cowardly I acted, and how courageous he appeared! I scarcely 
dared to face the man who had encountered such an overwhelming 
disappointment, and who was suffering such a terrible disgrace. But 
when we met, and I saw how he rose to the occasion, and did not 
abate one jot of heart or hope, I felt that this man was indeed master 
of the situation, and would yet silence the hosts of doubters who were 
thrusting their darts into his sensitive spirit. Eight years more he en¬ 
dured the odium of failure, but still kept plowing across the Atlantic, 
flying from city to city, soliciting capital, holding meetings, and forc¬ 
ing down the most colossal discouragement. 

At last day dawned again, and another cable was paid out, this 
time from the deck of the Great Eastern. Twelve hundred miles of 
it were laid down, and the ship was just lifting her head to a stiff 
breeze, then springing up, when, without a moment’s warning, the 
cable suddenly snapped short off and plunged into the sea. Says the 
published account of this great disaster: 

“ Mr. Field came from the companion-way into the saloon, and 
observed with admirable composure, though his lip quivered and his 
cheek was white, 4 The cable has parted, and has gone from the reel 
overboard! 

Nine days and nights they dragged the bottom of the sea for 
this lost treasure, and though they grappled it three times, they 
could not bring it to the surface. 

In that most eloquent speech made by Mr. Field at the Chamber 
of Commerce banquet in New York, one cf the most touching re¬ 
citals on record, he said: 41 We returned to England defeated, but full 
of resolution to begin the battle anew.” And this time his energy 
was greater even than before. In five months another cable was 
shipped on board the Great Eastern, and this time, by the blessing of 
Heaven, the wires were stretched, unharmed, from continent to con¬ 
tinent. Then came that never-to-be-forgotten search, in four ships, 
for the lost cable. In the bows of one of these vessels stood Cyrus 
Field, day and night, in storm and fog, squall and calm, intently 
watching the quiver of the grapnel that was dragging two miles 
down on the bottom of the deep. 

At length, on the last night of August, a little before midnight, 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


the spirit of this brave mail was rewarded. I shall here quote his 
own words, as none others could possibly convey so well the thrilling 
interest of that hour. He says: “All felt as if life and death hung 
on the issue. It was only when the cable was brought over the bow 
and on to the deck, that men dared to breathe. Even then they hardly 
believed their eyes. Some crept toward it to feel it, to be sure it was 
there. Then we carried it along to the electrician’s room, to see if 
our long-sought treasure was alive or dead. A few minutes of sus¬ 
pense, and a flash told of the lightning current again set free. Then 
the feeling long pent up burst forth. Some turned away their heads 
and wept. Others broke into cheers, and the cry ran from man to 
man, and was heard down in the engine-rooms, deck below deck, and 
from the boats on the water, and the other ships, while rockets lighted 
up the darkness of the sea. Then, with thankful hearts, we turned 
our faces again to the west. But soon the wind rose, and for 36 
hours we were exposed to all the dangers of a storm on the Atlantic. 
Yet, in the very height and fury of the gale, as I sat in the electrician’s 
room, a flash of light came up from the deep, which, having crossed 
to Ireland, came back to me in mid-ocean, telling me that those so 
dear to me, whom I had left on the banks of the Hudson, were well, 
and following us with their wishes and their prayers. This Was like 
a whisper of God from the sea, bidding me keep heart and hope.” 

And now, after all those 13 years of almost superhuman struggle, 
and that one moment of almost superhuman victory, I think we may 
safely include Cyrus W. Field among the masters of the situation. 

— James T. Fields. 

THE BROKEN CABLE. 

Apropos of the above, we have the following account of what 
transpired in the office at the eastern end of the cable, when the re¬ 
covery was made of the lost cable: 

“ Night and day, for a whole year, an electrician had always been 
on duty watching the tiny ray of light through which signals are 
given, and twice every day the whole length of wire, one thousand 
two hundred and forty miles, had been tested for conductivity and in¬ 
sulation. * * * The object of observing the ray of light 

was of course not an expectation of a message, but simply to keep an 


AND THE WISE. 


accurate record of the condition of the wire. Sometimes, indeed, 
wild, incoherent messages from the deep did come, but these were 
merely the results of magnetic storms and earth currents, which de¬ 
flected the galvanometer rapidly, and spelt the most extraordinary 
words, and sometimes even sentences of nonsense, upon the graduated 
scale before the mirror. Suddenly, last Saturday morning, at a quarter 
to 6 o’clock, while the light was being watched by Mr. May, he ob¬ 
served a peculiar indication about it which showed at once to his ex¬ 
perienced eye that a message was at hand. In a few minutes after¬ 
ward the unsteady flickering was changed to coherency, if we may 
use such a term, and at once the cable began to speak, to transmit, 
that is, at regular intervals, the appointed signals which indicated 
human purpose and method at the other end, instead of the hurried 
signals, broken speech, and inarticulate cries of the still illiterate 
Atlantic. After the long interval in which it had brought us nothing 
but the moody and often delirious mutterings of the sea stammering 
over its alphabet in vain, the words 4 Canning to Glass’ must have 
seemed like the first rational word uttered by a high fever patient when 
the ravings have ceased, and his consciousness returns .’’—London 
Spectator . 



HIS is at Essen, in Prussia. In 1S10 Krupp commenced with 
ten workmen. In 1877 his works were employing 9,000 men. 

^ The village at the start was but a comparatively small town, to¬ 
day it has 50,000 inhabitants. The buildings of the factory cover the 
space of over 200 acres, and are surmounted by 100 chimneys. A 
working-men’s city, with 3,000 houses, gives to the hands apartments 
which are rented at from $40 to $80 a year. There are in the factory at 
Essen 413 steam engines representing a total of 17,000 horses. There 
are 77 steam-hammers for pounding iron, among which is the famous 
hammer called “ Fritz,” which weighs 100,000 pounds. There are 
30 miles of railway and 40 miles of telegraph line connecting the 
different parts of the works. It is the greatest gun factory in the 









26© 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


world. Visitors at the Centennial will recall the fine display of 
Krupp’s cannon, which stood at the eastern entrance of Machinery 
Hall. The establishment can manufacture in 24 hours 2,700 rails, 150 
locomotive wheels, 1S0 wagon wheels, and i,5°° shells; and in a 


month, 250 field-pieces and 54 other guns of larger caliber. 




THE FAMOUS INDIAN EGG 



rj] wise: The dancer, dressed in a corsage and very short skirt, 

y carries a willow wheel of moderate diameter fastened hori- 

* zontally upon the top of her head. Around this wheel threads 

are fastened equally distant from each other, and at the end of each of 


these threads is a slip-noose, which is kept open by a glass bead. 


Thus equipped, the young girl comes toward the spectators with 
a basket of eggs, which she passes around for inspection, to prove 
that they are real, and not imitations. The music strikes up, a 
jerky, monotonous strain, and the dancer begins to whirl around 
with great rapidity; then, seizing an egg, she puts it in one of 
the slip-nooses, and, with a quick motion, throws it from her in 
such a way as to draw the knot tight. The swift turning of the 
dancer produces a centrifugal force which stretches the thread out 
straight like a ray shooting from the circumference of the circle. One 
after another the eggs are thrown out in these slip-nooses until they 
make a horizontal aureole or halo about the dancer’s head. Then the 
dance becomes still more rapid—so rapid, indeed, that it is difficult to 
distinguish the features of the girl. The moment is critical; the least 
false step, the least irregularity in time, and the eggs would dash 
against each other. But how can the dance be stopped? There is 
but one way—that is, to remove the eggs in the way in which thev 
have been put in place. This operation is by far the most delicate of 
the two. It is necessary that the dancer, by a single motion, exact 
and unerring, should take hold of the egg and remove it from the 










AND THE WISE. 


26Z 


noose. A single false motion of the hand, the least interference with 
one of the threads, and the general arrangement is broken, and the 
whole performance disastrously ended. At last all the eggs are suc¬ 
cessfully removed; the dancer suddenly stops, and without seeming in 
the least dizzy by this dance of twenty-five or thirty minutes, she 
advances to the spectators with a firm step, and presents them the 
eggs, which are immediately broken in a fiat dish, to prove that there 
is no trick about the performance.— Scribner's Magazine. 




MARVELS OP INGENUITY. 



w^5) 


OME marvels of human ingenuity may be seen at the London 
scientific exhibition. Thus, a machine, loaned by Sir William 
Armstrong, the great gunmaker, measures thickness up to the 
one-thousandth part of an inch, and another, on the same prin- 
ciple, to the one-millionth part. The delicate balance of Air. 
Certling carries 3,000 grains, and turns distinctly with the one-thou¬ 
sandth part of a single grain. Among the historical instruments is the 
chronometer sent by the Royal United Service Institution, which was 
twice carried out by Capt. Cook, and again by Capt. Osligh in 1787. 
When the crew of the Bounty mutinied, this veteran timekeeper was 
carried to Pitcairn’s Island by the mutineers, and sold by John 
Adams in 1808 to an American captain who touched there. He sold 
it in China, and in 1840 it was bought at Valparaiso by Sir Thomas 
Herbert, taken to China by him, and finally brought back to England 
in the Blenheim. 




PROPER DIMENSIONS FOR A FLAG. 

Persons who desire to make their own flags for the Fourth 
of July should remember that certain proportions should be observed 
in their manufacture. Any one can find the proper proportions from 
the following data: “The United States garrison flag is thirty-six 
feet ‘fly’ (long), and twenty feet ‘hoist’ (wide), or in that pro- 















^68 THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 

portion, the width being five-ninths of the length. The recruiting 
flag is nine feet, nine inches by four feet, four inches, the width being 
four-ninths of the length. The 4 union,’ or blue field, is in length 
one-third the length of the flag, and extends in width to the lower 
edge of the fourth red stripe from the top. There are thirteen stripes, 
beginning and ending with red. The garrison flag is the one usually 
taken as the standard for marking flags for private use or decoration.” 



3 £[i H ogarth, of the Royal Society of London, the honor of the 
discovery is due. It is well known to mineralogists that many 
natural crystals contain small cavities filled with a liquid. This 
liquid requires very great pressure to retain it, and it is in fact a gas 
under ordinary circumstances. So great is the pressure exerted by 
this liquefied gas that such crystals sometimes burst, and not long 
ago the bursting of a diamond was reported. It seemed probable 
therefore, that many natural crystals had been deposited from gaseous 
solutions, and that some of the gas had been entangled in them. This 
on cooling has condensed to a liquid, and as the outside pressure has 
been removed since its formation, the crystal is left in such a state of 
strain that a slight cause is sufficient to burst it. It was evident, there¬ 
fore, that if some solvent could be found to dissolve carbon when placed 
under conditions of great pressure and temperature, the problem of the 
artificial production of diamonds would be solved. Mr. Hannay 
described how he searched for a long time but in vain for such a sol¬ 
vent. Hydrocarbon was first tried, then the dissociation of hydrocar¬ 
bon by means of a metal was at last attempted, and successfully, by 
submitting a hydrocarbon in the presence of a nitrogenous substance 
to immense pressure and heat. On opening the iron tubes in which 
the experiments were performed, minute crystals of diamond, or, in 
other.words, crystalized carbon, were found to be deposited. These 











AND THE WISE. 


369 

little diamonds satisfied every test applied. They scratch deep grooves 
in the polished surface of sapphire,—a test which nothing but the dia¬ 
mond can satisfy. They are, like the diamond, nearly inert in polarized 
light. It is thought, now the principle has been discovered, that 
much larger stones may be produced. There can now be little doubt 
but that the great puzzle of chemistry has at last been solved, and not 
in the dark, but by the following of a strictly scientific method. 


.JLgJ; 

■ •• 





REPORTER of the Baltimore American thus describes one 
of the many processes of making shot in one of the shot tow¬ 
ers of that city. One of the “ secrets” of the manufacture is 
the mixing of the lead with a certain proportion of a com* 
bination of a mineral substance called “ temper.” The tem¬ 
per is fused with the lead, and gives the molten metal that con¬ 
sistency which makes it drop. If it were not for the temper 
the lead would be moulded by the sieve, and would form little 
pencils instead of round shot. When “ BB ” shot, for instance, 
are to be made, the lead is poured into a pan perforated with holes 
corresponding to that size. The little pellets come pouring down in 
a continuous shower, and fall into a tank filled with water on the ground 
floor. In the descent of two hundred feet they become perfect spheres, 
firm and dense, afid they are tolerably cool when they strike the water, 
although the swift concussions make the tank foam and bubble as if 
the water was boiling furiously. The shot must fall in the water, for 
if they should strike any hard substance they would be flattened and 
knocked out of shape. To get the little pellets perfectly dry after 
they have been in the “ well,” is the most difficult and troublesome 
process of the whole manufacture. An elevator with small buckets 
(very much like those used in flour mills) carries the shot up as fast as 
they reach the bottom of the “ well,” and deposits them in a box 60 
feet above the first floor. The water drips from the buckets as they 
go up, and not much is poured into the receiver above, although it is 




2?0 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


intended to be a sort of dripping machine. From this receiver the 
shot runs down a spout into a drying pan, which greatly resembles a 
gigantic shoe, made of sheet iron. The pan rests at an angle which 
permits the wet shot to roll slowly down to the chamber below, and 
the pellets become perfectly dry as they pass over the warm sheet 
iron. 







ip 


BN BATUTA, the Arabian, whose marvelous account has been 
more recently corroborated by Edward Melton, the Anglo-Dutch 
^ traveler, relates that when present at a great entertainment at the 
court of the Viceroy of Khansa, a juggler who was one of the 
khan’s slaves, made his appearance, and the amir said to him, “ Come 
and show us some of your marvels.” Upon this he took a wooden 
ball with several holes in it, through which long thongs were passed, 
and laying hold of one of these, slung it into the air. It went so high 
that we lost sight of it altogether. (It was the hottest season of the 
year, and we were outside in the middle of the Palace court.) There 
now remained only a little of the end of the thong in the conjuror’s hand, 
and he desired one of his boys who assisted him, to lay hold of it and 
mount. He did so, climbing by the thong, and we lost sight of him also! 
The conjuror then called to him three times, but getting no answer, he 
snatched up a knife, as if in a great rage, laid hold of the thong, and 
disappeared up it also. By-and-by he threw down one of the boy’s 
hands, then a foot, then the other hand, then the other foot, then the 
trunk, and, last of all, the head! Then he came down himself all puff¬ 
ing and panting, and with his clothes all bloody, kissed the ground be¬ 
fore the amir, who gave some order in reply, and our friend then took 
the lad’s limbs, laid them together in their places, and gave a kick, 
when, presto! there was the boy, who got up and stood before us! 
All this astonished me beyond measure, and I had an attack of palpi¬ 
tation like that which overcame me once before in the presence of the 
Sultan of India, when he showed me something of the same kind. 
They gave me a cordial, however, which cured the attack. The Kazi 









AND THE WISE. 


ZZ 1 


Afkharuddin was next to me, and quoth he, u Wallcih ! ’t is my opinion 
there has been neither going up nor coming down, neither marring 
nor mending: ’t is all hocus-pocus!”— O. M. Spencer, in Harper's 
Magazine. 


Soon Can You Count 2 9 $oo 9 mo 9 mof 



-e* 


HERE is something wonderful in figures; and numbers, 
when carefully considered, startle us by their immensity. 
We talk of millions and billions with little thought of the 
vastness of the sums we name. The lips may utter the 
words glibly, but the understanding fails to grasp their real significance. 
Take our own national debt as an illustration. Everybody knows it 
is large, but few have ever stopped to consider its appalling magni¬ 
tude. A few calculations will not be uninteresting. 

Let us suppose that the national debt is, in round numbers, $2,- 
500,000,000. If an experienced cashier were to commence counting 
this at the rate of three silver dollars per second, and work diligently 
eight hours per day, three hundred days in the year, it would take him 
about one hundred years to complete the count. 

If the silver dollars were placed side by side, touching each other, 
they would reach nearly three times around the world; they would 
pave a highway the width of our Chicago streets more than two hun¬ 
dred miles in length. 


Fused into one solid mass of pure silver, they would make a column 
ten feet square and two thousand five hundred feet high; or a bar fifty 
miles long and one foot square. 

If each silver bar be estimated at one ounce in weight, and the 
money loaded into carts containing one ton each, and driven one before 
the other, each horse and cart occupying two rods, the procession would 
extend over five hundred miles. 


Or consider that only about 1,000,000,000 minutes have elapsed 
since the birth of Christ, and that if one dollar had been put away 
each minute, day and night since that event, the accumulation would 
amount to but little more than one-third of the debt this nation now 












THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL 


m. 

owes. If this calculation were applied to England and France, whose 
national debt is nearly twice as large as ours, the result would be still 
more startling.— Chicago Inter-Ocean. 




fHE 



most remarkable echo recorded is at the 


place of -a. 

]ir nobleman within two miles of Milan, in Italy. The build- 
ing is of some length in front, and has two wings jetting 
forward, so that it wants only one side of an oblong figure. 
About one hundred paces before the mansion, a small brook glides 
gently; and over this brook is a bridge forming a communication 
between the mansion and the garden. A pistol having been fired 
at this spot, fifty-six reiterations of the report were heard. The 
first twenty were distinct, but in proportion as the sound died 
away, and was answered at a greater distance, the repetitions were 
so doubled that they could scarcely be counted, the principal sound 
appearing to be saluted in its passage by reports on either side at the 
same time. A pistol of a larger caliber having been afterward dis¬ 
charged, and consequently with a louder report, sixty distinct reitera¬ 
tions were counted.— C. C. Clarke. 



During the war the “ construction corps,” under the command of 
Gen. McCallum, became very expert in the work of repairing damage. 
The Rappahannock River bridge, 625 feet long, and 35 feet high, 
was rebuilt in nineteen hours; the Potomac Creek bridge, 414 feet 
long, and 82 feet high, was built in forty hours; the Chattahoochee 
bridge, 780 feet long, and 92 feet high, was completed in four and a 
half days ; that between Tunnel Hill and Resaca, 25 miles of per¬ 
manent way, and 230 feet of bridges, were constructed ii> seven and a 
half days.— Gen. McCallu?rfs Report . 







AND THE WISE. 


273 



% Jflff HE deepest coal mine in the United States is the Pottsville, 
jlWfe in Pennsylvania, whose shaft is one thousand five hundred 
i^pJ and seventy-six feet deep, or nearly a third of a mile. From 

G/fvS this great depth, two hundred cars, holding four tons of coal 
each, are lifted every day. The cars are run upon a platform, and 
the whole weight of six tons is hoisted in little more than a minute, 
a rate of speed that makes the head swim. A correspondent of the 
New York “Sun” describes the sensations and apprehensions of a 
person making the descent for the first time: 

A person of weak nerves should not brave the ordeal by descend¬ 
ing the Pottsville shaft. The machinery works as smoothly as a hotel 
elevator, but the speed is so terrific that one seems filling through the 
air. 

The knees after a few seconds become weak and tremulous, the 
ears ring as the drums of these organs are forced forward by the air 
pressure, and the eyes shut involuntarily as the beams of the shaft 
seem to dash upward only a foot or two away. 

As one leaves the light of the upper day, the transition to darkness 
is fantastic. The light does not pass into gloom in the same fashion 
as our day merges into night, but there is a kind of a phosphorescent 
glow, gradually becoming dimmer and dimmer. 

Half way down you pass, with a roar and a sudden crash, the 
ascending car. 

At last, after what seems several minutes, but is only a fraction of 
that time, the platform begins to slow up, halts at a gate, and through 
it you step into a crowd of creatures with the shapes of men, but with 
the blackened faces, the glaring eyes and wild physiognomies of 
fiends. 


* ’ r »j— r »_,~ 


IRRIGA Tl'QN ON A GIGANTIC SCALE. 

A gigantic irrigation enterprise is begun in Fresno Co., Cal., the 
canal for which will be fed by King’s River. The water will irri¬ 
gate 3,000,000 acres, barren through lack of water. Its dimensions 
18 





274 THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 

are: ioo feet in width at the bottom; levees 15 feet high, and 8 feet 
wide at the top. The depth of the water will be 5 feet, with a fall of 
18 inches per mile. The dam in the mountain canyon is 25 feet high, 
800 feet long, 140 feet wide at the base and 25 feet wide on top. It 
is rip-rapped on the inside with heavy rock. The water is led in from 
a head-gate of heavy timber, 100 feet wide, 18 feet high. It is planked 
so as to make a bridge for wagons, and has wings to jorotect it from 
floods. The canal will carry 1,300 cubic feet of water per second. 

BALM YMPILE'S BIG FARM. 



CORRESPONDENT thus describes a visit he made to this 
big farm in harvest season: 

Dalrymple’s big Minnesota farm of 30,000 acres is just 
turning out its wheat crop of 1,300 acres. Nine self-binding 
harvesters are constantly employed, reaping and binding 180 acres a 
day. Mr. Dairymple is harvesting his crop for about one-fifth the 
cost required under the system in vogue ten years ago. The yield 
will average eighteen bushels to the acre, and the net profit will be 
$7,000. Dalrymple has broken 9,000 acres for next year’s wheat. 
During the breaking season, Mr. Dalrymple had as high as one hun¬ 
dred teams at work. The furrows turned were six miles long, and the 
teams made but two trips a day, traveling with each plow, to make 
the four furrows, twenty-four miles. Dalrymple commenced his farm¬ 
ing career by working in the grain fields at $10 per month. He 
saved money enough to buy forty acres, and kept adding to it until 
he owns a ranch. He was bred a lawyer, but left the bar to 
harvest wheat. 

— > -<-<— 

In a part of Egypt it never rains, and in Peru it rains once, per¬ 
haps, in a life-time. Upon the table-lands of Mexico, and in parts 
of California, rain is very rare. But the great desert of Africa, and 
portions of Arabia and Persia, and some other regions, never experience 
a shower. 





















AND THE WISE. 


^76 



A PERFECT GENIUS OF A MACHINE. 

SNAPPISH, voracious little dwarf of a machine pulls in 
the wire, bites it off by inches incessantly, one hundred and 
forty bites a minute, and just as it seizes each bite a little 
hammer with a concave face hits the end of the wire three 
taps and 44 upsets ” it to a head while he grips it in a counter¬ 
sink held between his teeth and lays it sideways in a groove, where 
levers and springs, playing lightning, point the pins, and whence 
they are dropped into a box. The pins are then polished, and two 
very intelligent machines reject every crooked pin. Another autom¬ 
aton assorts half a dozen lengths, and a perfect genius of a machine 
hangs the pins by the head and transfers them to slips of paper and 
by one movement sticks them all through two corrugated ridges in 
the paper, when the work is finished. That’s the way pins are made. 

The pin machine is one of the nearest approaches to the dexterity 
of the human hand that has been invented. It is about the size of a 
sewing machine which it closely resembles. 


The Whispering Gallery in St. Paws 

Church. London. 

The Whispering Gallery is a very great curiosity. It is 140 yards 
in circumference. A stone seat runs round the gallery along the foot 
of the wall. On the side directly opposite the door by which the 
visitor enters, several yards of the seat are covered with matting, on 
which the visitor, being seated, the man who shows the gallery 
whispers, with the mouth close to the wall, near the door, at the dis¬ 
tance of 140 feet from the visitor, who hears his words in aloud voice, 
seemingly at his ear. The mere shutting of the door produces a sound 
to those on the opposite seat like violent claps of thunder. The effect 
is not so perfect if the visitor sits down half way between the door and 
the matted seat, and still less so if he stands near the man who speaks, 
but on the other side of the door .—From Hundred Wonders of the 

World. 




THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




One hundred and ninety-four cubic miles of water are daily raised 
by the sun from the surface of the sea. 

A hoop surrounding the earth would bend from a perfectly straight 
line about eight and a half inches in a mile. 

The noise of cannon has been heard a distance of more than 250 
miles, by applying the ear to the solid earth. 

Arago has demonstrated that the duration of a flash of lightning 
does not exceed the one-millionth part of a second. 

The whole range of human hearing, from the lowest note of 
the organ to the highest known cry of insects, includes about nine 
octaves. 

All the researches and investigations of modern science teach 
us that it is impossible to either create or destroy a single particle of 
matter. The power to create and destroy matter belongs to the 
Deity alone 

There are living creatures so minute that a hundred millions of 
them may be comprehended within the space of a cubic inch. But 
these creatures are seen to possess all the necessary arrangements for 
capturing their food, eating, and digesting it. 

5— -- / % r ~.o^o --—£ 

MORE WONDERFUL THINGS TO FOLLO W,\ 

Antoine Wiertz, the famous Belgian artist, has one large picture, 
entitled u The Man of the Future Regarding the Things of the Past.” 
After all the wonderful things our race and age have accomplished, 
this painting makes us appear very insignificant. The man of the 
future is represented as of gigantic and kingly proportions—for the 
men of the future are to be giants of civilization as compared with 
the people of our day. He has gathered in his colossal palm certain 
curious toys of the present age—cannons, thrones, scepters, battle-flags, 
arches of triumph, etc., and is regarding them with a face which 
expresses curiosity, amusement, and a sort of divine contempt. To 
that majestic gaze, how infinitely small do all such things appear. 





























I 







I ^ 

(^> -vl* <^fc> nL* -sU vU 



■yU 


WHAT WERE THE CRUSADES? 







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ONG, long ago, Christians used to make pilgrimages to 
the Holy Land from many parts of Europe; but in the year 
7 ^- 1065 the Egyptian caliphs were overthrown by the Turks, 
who treated the Christians in a most cruel manner. A great 
many people in Italy and France, called together by a man named Peter 
the Hermit, started for the Holy Land. But, although he was assisted 
by another army, under Walter the Penniless, they didn’t get any 
where near Jerusalem, because the Turks destroyed nearly all of them. 
Shortly after that an army of Germans shared the same fate, and then 
an immense company of 200,000 from England and the Continent 
were all destroyed, still leaving Jerusalem in the hands of the Turks 
But all these efforts, you see, were made without any organization in 
particular, and were not at all skilfully carried out; but they opened 
the way to the first real crusade, which did not start for some years 
after the other failures. The first crusade consisted of six splendid 
armies, made up of the very best knights of Europe, commanded by 
some of the noblest princes in the land. They fought their way suc¬ 
cessfully to Antioch, which fell into their hands after a long siege— 
six or seven months. They reached Jerusalem at last; but out of the 
60,000 that started, only 40,000 had survived. They captured the city 
after a few weeks’ siege (1099), and Godfrey, a virtuous and brave 
man, and one of the leaders from Germany, became king. The Chris¬ 
tians held the city against the attacks of the Mohammedans till the 
year 1144, when affairs looked so bad that a second crusade was an¬ 
nounced. Two armies, containing 1,200,000 men, under Louis VII., 
King of France, and Conrad III., Emperor of Germany, set out, but 
on account of the treachery of a Greek Emperor, Comneus, the cru- 

[279] 










































































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


sade failed. In 1187 the Sultan of Egypt captured Jerusalem, and a 
third crusade was organized, and after that a fourth and a fifth, and a 
sixth and a seventh, and in 1270 the eighth and last. Sometimes the 
Christians were successful, but oftentimes they were completely beaten 
by the Turks and their allies. 

But the Professor wants to tell you of the strangest thing of all. 
Have you ever heard of the children’s crusade? In the year 1212 an 
army of 30,000 French children set out for the Holy Land by the 
way of Marseilles. They were unarmed, and chose for their com¬ 
mander a boy named Stephen, who lived in Vendome. At the same 
time 20,000 German children crossed the Alps at Mont Cenis and 20,- 
000 more at another point. 

Think of it! Seventy thousand children on their way to deliver 
Jerusalem! They seemed to think that by some miracle they were to 
be the means of converting all their oppressors to Christianity. This 
crusade was certainly one of the strangest things in history. Did the 
children succeed? It makes the Professor feel very sad to say that 
they did not. Poor children; some of them wandered back to their 
homes again, their little hearts discouraged and their little feet weary 
with marching, but nearly all of them perished—some on the way? 
some by drowning in the Mediterranean Sea—while all who missed 
a comparatively happy death were sold into slavery.— The Professor. 


ACTOR’S TRIUMPH. 





fHERE was once an English actor so terribly in earnest with 
the study of his profession that he made a mark on his gen¬ 
eration never exceeded by any other tragedian! He was a 
little, dark man, with a voice naturally harsh, but he deter¬ 
mined when comparatively young, to play the character of Sir Giles 
Overreach in Massinger’s drama as no other man ever played it 
before. He resolved to give years of indefatigable industry in pre¬ 
paring himself for the part, and to devote his whole intellect to a 
proper conception of the character. In the whole range of English 
dramatic literature the character of Sir Giles is estimated one of the, 








AND THE WISE. 


2SI 


greatest pieces of effective villainy and untamable passion ever por¬ 
trayed, and little Edmund Kean set himself to the task of producing 
on the London stage all the effect which the author intended. With 
what intensity he studied the language, how he flung himself with a 
kind of rage into the feeling of the piece, all his biographers have 
recorded. His wife said that he would often remain up all night, 
before the pier-glass, endeavoring to realize by gesture, modulation, 
and action, the conception at which he had arrived. At last, after 
repeated refusals to the management, to appear as Sir Giles, saying 
he was not ready yet, and must still give more time to the rehearsal, 
he consented to have the play announced, as now he felt he could do 
it justice. And what was the effect of all this hard work and unceas¬ 
ing study of the part? Fortunately we know all about it, although 
Kean played it on that memorable evening, more than fifty years ago. 
It was one of the grandest effects ever witnessed on the English stage. 
We have accounts from various eye-witnesses of the sensation and the 
enthusiasm the presentation of this character- produced, when Kean, 
fully ripe for the occasion, came upon the stage as Sir Giles; and 
some of the triumphs of that wonderful evening in 1S16, at Drury 
Lane, are well known. It was observed that when he first walked 
in from the wings there was that in his burning eye which betokened 
greater determination than usual, and Lord Byron, who was in a 
stage-box, whispered to the poet Moore, that something dreadful was 
written on the great actor’s countenance, something more suggestive 
of power even than he had noticed before. And never till then in the 
history of the stage, was there witnessed such an exhibition of force¬ 
ful endeavor. 

Throughout the whole play Kean bore himself like a fury; but it 
was reserved for the last scene to stamp an impression which existed 
during the lifetime of all who were present. The great actor himself 
shook like a strong oak in the whirlwind of his passionate vengeance, 
as displayed in the closing sentences of the play, and when he was 
removed from the stage, his face, turned to the spectators, was so 
awful that Byron was seized with a convulsive fit and fell forward, pale 
as death itself. The solemn stillness of the house was broken by 
screams of terror from boxes and gallery; the pit rose en masse. 
Mrs. Glover, an actress of long experience and great talent, fainted 


TflHE BEAUTIFUL, IFHE WONDERFUL, 

outright on the stage; Mrs. Horn, who was also playing in the piece, 
staggered to a chair and wept aloud at the appalling sight of Kean’s 
agony and rage. Munden, a veteran on the boards, who played the 
part of Marall, stood so transfixed with astonishment and terror that 
he had to be carried off by main force from the scene, his eyes riveted 
on Kean’s convulsed and awful countenance. The actor that night 
was master of the situation, and profound and earnest study gave him 
the clue to his great achievement.— Jas. T. Fields. 


Annual Incomes qf Some of the Leading 


Rulers. 

RGENTINE Confederation. —The President elected for six 
fiuy.K years, and installed Oct. 12, has a salary of $20,000; the 



Vice-President, $10,000. 

Austria-Hungary. —The Emperor-King has an income of 
$4,600,000; one-half of this sum is paid to him by Austria, 
as Emperor of Austria, and one-half by Hungary, as King of 
Hungary. 

Belgium. —The reigning King has an income of $660,000. 

China.— No account of the Emperor’s receipts or expenditures is 
kept. 


Denmark. —The present King, Christian IX., has an income of 
$275,000 settled upon him by vote of the Rigsdag. 

Canada.— The Governor-General, at present Marquis of Lome, 
son-in-law of Queen Victoria, has a salary of $50,000. 

Egypt. —The Khedive is allowed $750,000 annually, with a trifle 
of $350,000 for other members of his family. 

England.— Queen Victoria has granted to her an annual allow¬ 
ance of $1,925,000 for the support of her household. Of this $300,- 
000 goes into her Majesty’s private purse; $156,300 pay the salaries 
of the royal household; $221,200 is for retiring allowances and pen¬ 
sions to servants, and $66,000 for royal bounty, alms and special ser- 









AND THE WISE. 


vices, leaving $i,iS 1,500 for the general expenditures of the court. 
This, however, is only a portion of Her Majesty’s income. There is 
also paid to her the net revenues of the Duchy of Lancaster, which 
amounted in 1878, to $238,000. Her children are also allowed vari¬ 
ous sums ranging from $15,000 to $125,000. The heir apparent to 
the throne, however, who happens in this case to be the Prince of 
Wales, is more fortunate than the rest, as he has settled upon him an 
annuity of $400,000, and has besides as income, the revenues of the 
Duchy of Cornwall, amounting to almost as much more. 

France.—The President of the Republic receives a salary of 600,- 
000 francs, or about $120,000 per year. 

Greece.— The total income of the present sovereign is $208,712. 

India. —The Governor-General has a salary of $125,000, and 
allowances amounting to $60,000 more. 

Netherlands.—King Wilhelm III. has an income of $43,665, and 
an appropriation of half as much more for the expenses of the royal 
palaces. 

New South Wales.— The salary paid to the Governor, by Eng¬ 
land, is $35,000. 

New Zealand. —England pa vs the Governor $25,000, and gives 
him an allowance of $12,500. 

Persia.— The whole revenues of the country are at the disposal 
of the Shah, and they are thus able to amass very large private 
fortunes. 

Prussia. —Until recently the King of Prussia received the entire 
income of the State domains, amounting to about $5,000,000. But 
since the establishment of constitutional government, the domains 
have become public property, and the income of the ruling sovereign 
and the expenses of his court, are met by appropriations, which, so far 
as it appears in the budgets, amounts to about $3,075,000. But the 
reigning house is in possession of vast private estates which yield a 
very large revenue. 

Russia.— The Emperor of Russia and his family lead all others in 
the amount of their annual incomes. The Emperor is in possession 
of the revenue from the crown domains, consisting of more than a 


284 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


million square miles of cultivated lands and forests; besides gold and 
other mines in Siberia, producing a vast revenue. The sum total of 
the annual net income of the Imperial family is $10,000,000. 

Queensland. —The Governor, appointed by England, has a salary 
of $25,000. 

Spain. —The annual grant to the Queen was fixed by the Cortes 
in 1S79 at $90,000, with an increase of $50,000 in case of widow¬ 
hood. 

Victoria. —The Governor-General, appointed by England, has a 
salary of $50,000.— People's Cyclopedia . 


-§ 5 —?-<• 





^ADGER STATE. —A name popularly given to the State of 
Wisconsin, on account of the number of badgers which form¬ 
erly abounded there. 

Vfcf Bay State. —A name given to the State of Massachusetts 
which, previous to the Federal constitution, was called the colony of 
Massachusetts Bay. 

Bayou State. —The State of Mississippi, which abounds in bayous 
or creeks. 


Bear State.— A name by which the State of Arkansas is some¬ 
times called, because of the large number of bears which used to in¬ 
fest its forests. 

Buckeye State.— The State of Ohio, so called because of the 
buckeye tree which abounds there. 

Creole State. —Louisiana, in which the original inhabitants were 
chiefly French and Spanish settlers. 

Diamond State. —Delaware, from its small size and great worth, 
or supposed importance. 

Empire State.— New York, the most populous and wealthy State 
in the Union, also called Excelsior State, from the motto on its coat of 
arms. 








AND THE WISE. 




Freestone State. —Connecticut, from its immense quarries of free' 
stone. 

Granite State. —New Hampshire—in which the mountains are 
largely composed of granite. 

Hawkeye State. —Iowa, named after an Indian chief, once a terror 
to travelers. 

Hoosier State. —Indiana, whose people are called hoosiers, from the 
word “ liusher,” a bully. 

Keystone State. —Pennsylvania, which was the central State of 
the Union at the time of the formation of the Constitution. If the 
names of the thirteen original States be arranged in the form of an 
arch, Pennsylvania will occupy the place of the keystone. 

Lake State. —Michigan, which borders on the four great lakes, 
Superior, Michigan, Huron, and Erie. 

Little Rhody. —A popular designation of Rhode Island, which is 
the smallest of all the States. 

Lone-Star State. —Texas, from the device on its coat of arms. 

Lumber State. —Maine, in which the principal occupation of the 
people is lumbering. 

Mother of States. —Virginia, the first settled of the original thir¬ 
teen States which declared their independence. Also called the Old 
Dominion. 

Nutmeg State. —Connecticut, noted for the native shrewdness of 
its people; also humorously charged with selling wooden nutmegs. 

Old North State. —A popular designation of the State of North 
Carolina; also called Turpentine State. 

Palmetto State. —South Carolina, so called from the arms of the 
State, which contain a palmetto. 

Peninsular State. —Florida, so called on account of shape. 

Pine-Tree State. —Maine, the central and northern portions of 
which are covered with extensive pine forests. 

Prairie State. —Illinois, in allusion to the widespread and beau¬ 
tiful prairies which form a striking feature of the scenery of the State. 

Wolverine State. —Michigan, because it formerly abounded in 
wolverines. 


28 © 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL. 



•2 

OME one writes and asks the Professor to tell something 
about the Reformation. Let us see what we can give in a 
popular way. 

The name Reformation is applied to the period in the six¬ 
teenth century when, through a religious revolution, the 
Protestants separated themselves from the Roman Catholics—so far 
as worship and belief are concerned. In Germany the movement was 
begun by Martin Luther, who preached against the sale of “ indul¬ 
gences ” which was authorized by Pope Leo X., who wanted the 
money to build St. Peter’s Church at Rome. Luther drew up a notice 
to the effect that the Pope had no power to forgive sin, and this he 
nailed to the door of the church in which he preached in Wittenberg. 
This church, you must remember, was Roman Catholic, for at that 
time there were no Protestants. 

Now you can imagine that when Luther nailed up his notice it 
created a great sensation. The Pope sent for him to come at once to 
Rome, but Luther refused. This was in 1517. In 1521 Charles V., 
Emperor of Germany, called together at Worms, a town on the 
Rhine, the famous Diet (which meant an assembly of the German 
States), at which Luther was ordered to be present. His friends 
didn’t want him to go, but he said he would, “ even though there 
were as many devils in the city as tiles on the roofs.” He attended, 
and made so strong an impression that then and there they saw how 
soon the Roman Catholic Church must weaken. Luther had faith in 
the Bible, while his opponents had all faith in the Pope. Luther trans¬ 
lated the Scriptures, and soon his followers became numerous. The 
word “ Protestants” came from the “ Protest” that was sig-ned at 

o 

another Diet—one held at Spires in 1529, when a majority voted 
against the Reformation. Then came John Calvin, who was born in 
1509, preaching as a Protestant reformer. The new cause spread 
rapidly. But the reformers were not permitted to increase without 
opposition, for in 1618 the great thirty years’ war commenced, which 
was a struggle of Protestants against Roman Catholics in Ger¬ 
many. In France the Romanists called the followers of Calvin, 




AND THE WISE. 


28 ? 


Huguenots, and in 1572 the massacre of St. Bartholomew’s Day took 
place. The treacherous thing you all remember. It happened be¬ 
fore Charles IX. came of age, when Catherine de Medicis was regent. 
Catherine pretended to be friendly with the Huguenots, aud arranged 
a wedding between a sister of Charles and Henry of Navarre. 

' Many Huguenots came to the wedding, for Henry had always been a 
Protestant. It is said that Charles repented, and would have spared 
the Huguenots, had not Catherine taunted him for being weak and a 
coward. The general massacre commenced Sunday morning, August 
24, and continued for about forty-eight hours. The number killed 
in Paris is not known, but is supposed to be about five thousand, 
while in the provinces it is stated that thirty thousand more perished 
in the general massacre. Some authorities state the number to be as 
large as one hundred thousand. 

After the Thirty Years’ War came the Peace of Passan, a town 
of Bavaria, in 1552. This secured to the Protestants liberty to wor¬ 
ship according to their faith.— Christian Union. 

# 

3— -^ 


THE GREAT ENGLISH LAND OWNERS. 

& IBifHE New York World has compiled, from lists taken from 
d the new Doomsday Book just issued in England, the follow- 

<4 W ing roll of the great landholders of England and Wales 
who derive, from lands alone in these countries, incomes 
of more than £cjo,ooo a year. It should be understood that this 1 oil 
in many cases gives no accurate account of the total incomes of the 
persons mentioned in it, since it in no case includes incomes deiived 
from any other source than lands in England and Wales, excluding 
London. The Duke of Sutherland, for example, has an income 
roughly estimated at £200,000 from his property in London, Scotland 
and & Ireland, over and above the $72,728 derived from his English 
estate. The Dukes of Portland and Bedford have at least an equal 
income from their London propertyj and the Duke of \\ estminstei, 
whose income from his London property is estimated at £400,000, 
does not appear at all in the front rank of rural English proprietors. 











%88 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


The Marquis of Bute has a very large Scottish income which does 
not appear in this roll, and many of the wealthiest proprietors of 
Great Britain, titled and untitled, do not figure in it at all. But taken 
as it stands, it furnishes a very striking picture of the immense devel¬ 
opment of the territorial wealth of England since the repeal of the 
corn laws: 

Dukes. —Norfolk, £264,564; Northumberland, £176,044; Bedford, 
£140,547; Devonshire, £140,403; Cleveland, £91,785; Newcastle, 
£79,217; Rutland, £73,990; Sutherland, £72,728; Portland, £68,935. 

Marquises.— Bute, £185,710; Anglesea, £107,361. 

Earls. —Derby, £163,326; Dudley, £120,851; Fitz William, 
£89,219; Brownlow, £85,076; Yarborough, £76,226; Durham, £71 
672; Lonsdale, £69,960; Powis, £63,306; Stamford and Warrington, 
£58,217; Shrewsbury and Talbot, £52,284. 

Barons. —Calthorpe, £122,628; Tredegar, £118,418; Leconfield, 
£57,271; Overstone, £51,789. 

Baronets. —Sir John Ramsden, £164,606; Sir Lawrence Palk, 
£109,275; Sir J. St. Aubyn, £95,259. 

Untitled.— Hon. Mark Rolle, £70,586. 




c.2Q^- 




WHE following is a description of Capt. Webb’s fatal attempt 
to swim through the rapids and whirlpool, at Niagara, in 
July, 1SS3: Webb promptly removed his hat, handkerchief, 
coat, and all his clothing save a pair of short red cotton 
trunks around his loins, and, without a word of farewell, plunged 
boldly into the water at a point opposite the Maid of the Mist land¬ 
ing. A moment later, he rose gracefully to the surface, and, swim¬ 
ming with infinite ease and power, struck boldly out. He cleared the 
water with strong and steady strokes, swimming on his breast, with 
his head clear from the surface. He kept in the center of the stream, 
and the strong eddies which occasionally swirled past him seemed in 
no way to impede or swerve him from his course. As he approached 
the old Suspension bridge, the flow of the current increased with 








AND THE WISE. 


289 


remarkable rapidity. There were about two hundred spectators on 
the bridge who saw the intrepid swimmer glide toward them, pass 
swiftly beneath them, and ere they could reach the east side of the 
structure, he was fifty yards down the current. He was carried along 
as fast as the eye could follow him. With speechless wonder and 
fear he was seen to reach the first furious billows of the rapids. 
Onward he was swept like a feather in the sea. High on the crest of 
a huge boulder of water, his head and shoulders gleamed for an 
instant, and then were lost in a dark abyss of turmoiling water 
Again he appeared, his arms steadily moving, as if balancing himself, 
for a plunge into another mighty wave. The tumbling, rushing, 
swirling element seemed to give forth an angry, sullen roar, as if 
sounding the death-knell of the ill-fated swimmer. Once more away 
down the rapids he was seen, still apparently braving fate, and stem¬ 
ming the seethinof waters with marvelous skill and endurance. Instead 
of being hurled hither and thither, as might have been expected, he 
was carried with furious rapidity onward, almost in a straight course. 
For nearly a mile he was hurried forward by the tumultuous rushing 
waters, and still he seemed to be riding the awful billows in safety. 
In four minutes after he had passed under the old Suspension bridge, he 
had been hurried through the terrible rapids, and arrived at the mouth 
of the great whirlpool. Reaching what seemed to be less troubled and 
dangerous waters, he raised his head well above the surface, gazed for 

O ' 

an instant toward the American shore, and then turned his face to 
the high bluff on the Canadian side. A second later he dived or sank, 
and was seen no more. 



It is the impression among some that it is now a rare thing to find 
a mummy in Egypt, and that the supply must have been exhausted. 
Read the following from Explorations in Bible Lands: u The piocess 
of embalming was practiced among the Egyptians for more than 
2,000 years 5 and not only all natives, but strangeis, capti\es and sla\ es, 
were subjected to the ritej so that there must be, at the piesent time, 
19 





290 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


millions, if not hundreds of millions, of these mummies hidden among 


the mountain ranges, or concealed by the ever-shifting sands of 
Egypt.” 




at Niagara. 



1 * J) ll 7 , • 

Niagara Falls, calls to mind the memorable passage of the 
steamer “ Maid of the Mist,” in 1861, over this same dan¬ 


gerous voyage, it being the only occasion when a human being effected 
the passage in safety. The steamer had been sold to parties at Lewis¬ 
ton, on condition that she be delivered at that place. Mr. Geo. W. 
Holley gives the rest of the story: 

“About 3 o’clock in the afternoon of June 15, 1861, the engi¬ 
neer took his place in the hold, and, knowing that their flitting would 
be short at the longest, set his steam-valve at the proper gauge, and 
waited—not without anxiety—the tinkling signal that should start 
them on their flying voyage. McIntyre joined Robinson at the 
wheel, on the upper deck. Robinson took his place at the wheel 
and pulled the starting bell. With a shriek from her whistle, and a 
white puff from her escape-pipe, the boat ran up the eddy a short dis¬ 
tance, then swung around to the right, cleared the smooth water, and 
shot like an arrow into the rapid under the bridge. She took the 
outside curve of the rapid, and when a third of the way down it, a jet 
of water struck against her rudder, a column dashed up under her 
starboard side, heeled her over, carried away her smoke-stack, started 
her overhang on that side, threw Robinson on his back, and thrust 
McIntyre against her starboard wheel house with such force as to 
break it through. Every looker-on breathed freer as she emerged, 
shook her wounded sides, slid into the whirlpool, and for a moment 
rode again on an even keel. Robinson rose at once, seized the helm, 
set her to the right of the large pot in the pool, then turned her 
directly through the neck of it. Thence, after receiving another 
drenching from its waves, she dashed on without further accident, to 
the quiet bosom of the river below Lewiston. 







AMD JUHE WISE. 


291 


“ Tllus was accomplished the most remarkable and perilous voy¬ 
age ever made by man. Robinson said that the greater part of it was 
like what he had always imagined must be the swift sailing of a large 
bird in a downward flight; that when the accident occurred, the bolt 
seemed to be struck from all directions at once; that she trembled 
like a fiddle-stiing, and felt as if she would crumble away and drop 
into atoms; that both he and McIntyre were holding to the wheel 
with all their strength, but produced no more effect than if they had 
been two flies. 

“ Poor Jones, imprisoned beneath the hatches before the glowing 
furnace, went down on his knees, as he related afterward, and although 
a more earnest prayer was never uttered, and few that were shorter, 
still it seemed to him prodigiously long. The effect of this trip upon 
Robinson was decidedly marked. ‘ He was,’ said Mrs. Robinson to 
the writer, ‘ twenty years older when he came home that day than 
when he went out.’ He sank into his chair like a person overcome 
with weariness. He decided to abandon the water, and venture no 
more about the rapids. Both his manner and appearance were 
changed. Calm and deliberate before, he became thoughtful and 
serious afterward.” 




Dr. Benjamin Franklin, in a codicil to his will, left his native town 
of Boston the sum of one thousand pounds to be lent to the young- 
married artificers, upon good security, and under odd conditions. If 
the plan should be carried out as successfully as he expected, he reck¬ 
oned that this sum would amount, in one hundred years, to one hun¬ 
dred and thirty-one thousand pounds. It was his wish, and so 
expressed in his will, that one hundred thousand pounds should be 
spent upon public works, “which may then be judged of most general 
utility to the inhabitants; such as fortifications, bridges, aqueducts, 
public buildings, baths, pavements, or whatever makes living in the 
town more convenient to its people, and renders it more agreeable to 
strangers resorting thither for health, or a temporary residence.” It 
was also his wish that the remaining thirty-one thousand pounds 
should again be put upon interest for another hundred years, at the 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


^92 

end of which time the whole amount was to be divided between the 
city and the State. The bequest at the en’d of the first hundred years 
may not attain the exact figure he calculated, but it is sure to be a 
large sum. At the present time it is more than a hundred and eighty 
thousand dollars, and it has about seventeen years to run. Franklin 
died in 1790. 



It is asserted by Bancroft, the historian, in speaking of the vaga¬ 
bond and dissolute character of the men who were being sent over to 
strengthen the feeble colony at Jamestown, -and who were subse¬ 
quently killed off by disease and the savages, that “ it was not the 
will of God that the new State should be formed of these materials,— 
that such men should be the fathers of a progeny, born on the Ameri¬ 
can soil, who were one day to assert American liberty by their 
eloquence, and defend it by their valor.” 

•——<^((((0)))>^c ■ 


BISMARCK’S COOLNESS . 

Bismarck is no orator, like Gladstone, in England, or the late 
Gambetta, in France. But he is always master of himself, and of the 
subject on which he speaks. He showed his perfect coolness at the 
very beginning of his public career. In his first speech in the House 
of Deputies, he hesitated and blundered, like Demosthenes in his first 
speech in the Athenian Agora, and Sheridan in his first appearance 
in the House of Commons. The two latter gave it up, and retired in 
shame, with, however, a determination to succeed in the future. 

But Bismarck would not confess himself beaten. He was deter¬ 
mined to win success from the start. When the Deputies laughed at 
him, hooted, hissed, and tried to compel him to sit down, he remained 
standing. As the storm grew more violent, he looked round in abso¬ 
lute composure, took a paper from his pocket, and read quietly until 
order was restored. Then he resumed his speech and finished it, 
having compelled the attention of the House. From that moment, 
all felt that he was certain to succeed. 




AND THE WISE. 


293 


OUR OBELISE. 

The obelisk now standing in Central Park, New York, is one of 
the oldest extant. It originally stood in front of the Temple of the 
Sun, at Heliopolis, but was removed to Alexandria, by order of 
Augustus Cffisar, B. C. 23. It is a single shaft of rose-colored Syenite 
granite, and out of the same quarry as all the other obelisks. It is 
6S feet, 10 inches long, and almost 8 feet square at the base, and 5 at 
the top, and weighs 1S6 tons. The four sides are covered with 
inscriptions, recording the deeds of Tothmes III., who first set up the 
shaft at Heliopolis, and Rameses II., 270 years later. But even the 
latter reigned 1,400 hundred years before Christ. So we see our 
obelisk is quite a relic. It and the one now in London were u twins.” 



TS —I 



IR WILLIAM HAMILTON tells some huge stories in his 
lectures on Memory. Ben Jonson could not only repeat all 
he had ever written, but whole books he had read! If we 
nAn his faculty, we should pray to be delivered from the full 
rcise of it. Niebuhr, in his youth, was employed in one 
of the public offices of Denmark, where part of a book of accounts 
having been lost, he restored it from his recollection. Seneca com¬ 
plains of old age, because he cannot, as he once did, repeat two thou¬ 
sand names in the order they were read to him; and avers that, on 
one occasion, when at his studies, two hundred unconnected verses 
having been pronounced by different pupils of his preceptor, he 
repeated them in a reversed order, proceeding from the last to the 
first uttered. A quick and retentive memory, both of words and 
things, is an invaluable treasure, and may be had by any one who will 
take the pains. Theodore Parker, when in the Divinity School, had 
a notion that his memory was defective and needed looking after, and 
he had an immense chronological chart hung up in his room, and 
tasked himself to commit the contents,—all the names and dates, from 
Adam and the year one, down through Nimrod, Ptolemy, Soter, 










294 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


Heliogabulus, and the rest. Our verbal memory soonest fails us, 
unless we attend to it, and keep it in fresh order. A child will com¬ 
mit and recite verbatim easier than an adult, and girls than boys. To 
keep the verbal memory fresh, it is capital exercise to study and 
acquire new languages, or commit and treasure up choice passages, 
making them a part of our mental wealth. 

There is a negro girl in Brucetown, Ky., about nine years of age, 
whose memory is truly marvelous. Her wonderful powers were 
first brought to the notice of a white man, who keeps a grocery in 
that part of the city, about two weeks ago. He had been reading 
aloud in her presence the day before, and accidentally heard her repeat, 
word for word, what he had read from the paper, though twenty-four 
hours had intervened. 

After this he tested her memory frequently, and found her 
capable of repeating thirty or forty lines from a book, after hearing it 
read once over. Her intellect, in other respects, does not seem at all 
above, if equal to, the average. Such instances of memory are not at 
all unusual. Mary Summerville tells of an idiot, in Edinburgh, who 
never failed to repeat the sermon, word for word, after attending the 
kirk each Sunday, saying, “ Here the minister coughed; ” “Here he 
stopped to blow his nose.” She also tells of another whom she met 
in the Highlands, who knew the Bible so perfectly that if he was 
asked where such a verse was to be found, he could tell without hesi¬ 
tation, and repeat the chapter .—Monthly Magazine. 




jESCARTES, the famous mathematician and philosopher; La 
Fontaine, celebrated for his witty fables, and Buffon, the nat¬ 
uralist, were all singularly deficient in the power of conversa¬ 
tion. Marmontel, the novelist, was so dull in society that his 
friend said to him, after an interview, “ I must go and read his tales, in 
recompense to myself for the weariness of hearing him.” As to Cor¬ 
neille, the greatest dramatist of Franee, he was completely lost in society 
—so absent and embarrassed that he wrote of himself a witty couplet, 







AND THE WISE. 


importing that he was never intelligible but through the mouth of 
another. Wit on paper seems to be widely different from that play 
of words in conversation, which, while it sparkles, dies; for Charles 
II., the wittiest of monarchs, was so charmed with the humor of 
44 Hudibras,” that he caused himself to be introduced in the character 

t 

of a private gentleman to Butler, its author. The witty monarch 
found the author a very dull companion, and was of opinion, with 
many others, that so stupid a fellow could never have written so 
clever a book. Addison, whose classic elegance has long been con¬ 
sidered the model of style, was shy and absent in society, preserving 
even before a single stranger formal and dignified silence. In coi>- 
versation Dante was taciturn and satirical. Gray and Alfieri seldom 
talked or smiled. Rosseau was remarkably trite in conversation, with¬ 
out a word of fancy or eloquence in his speech. Milton was unsocial 
and sarcastic when much pressed by strangers. 




LETTER OF A SCHOOL BOY. 

I 

\Y Dear Grandmother: — One of my elbows came 
through, but the woman sewed it again. I’ve used up both 
balls of my twine. And my white-handle knife—I guess it 
went through a hole in my pocket, that I didn’t know of till 
after my knife was lost. My trousers are getting pretty short. 
But she says it’s partly my legs getting long. I’m glad of that. And 
partly getting them wet. I stubbed my toe against a stump, and tum¬ 
bled down and scraped a hole through the knee of my oldest pair. 
It was very rotten cloth. I guess the hole is too crooked to have it 
sewed up again. She thinks a mouse ran up my leg, and gnawed the 
hole my knife went through, to get the crumbs in the pocket. I don’t 
mean when they were on me, but hanging up. I did what you told 
me when I got wet. I hung my clothes around the kitchen stove on 
three chairs, but the cooking girl, she flung them undei the table. So 
now I go wrinkled and the boys chase me to smooth out the wrinkles. 
I don’t skip over any button holes in the morning now, as my jacket 
comes out even. Why didn’t you tell me I had a led head? 1 hey say 






296 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


they’d pull my hair if it weren’t for burning their fingers. Dorry said 
he guessed my hair was tired of standing up and wanted to lie down 
and rest. I wish you please would send me a new comb, for the large 
end of mine has got all but five of the teeth broken out, and the small 
end can’t get through. I can’t get it cut because the barber has raised 
his price. Send me quite a stout one. I have lost two of my pocket 
handkerchiefs, and another went up on Dorry’s kite and blew away. 




CLAY. 




FRESH anecdote of Henry Clay, or any of the wise and 
witty men who were his contemporaries, is always refreshing. 
When General Jackson appointed Mr. Buchanan to the mis¬ 
sion at St. Petersburg, he inquired of Mr. Clay, at a party in 
Washington, what style of dress he should wear at the court 
of the Czar. Mr. Clay replied that as they were about of a size 
(Buchanan had not then grown so stout as he appeared later in life) 
the coat he wore as one of the United States Commissioners at Ghent 
was at his service. 

“ But it has been worn, Mr. Clay,” was the response to the offer. 
u Oh, that is nothing. You can turn it, Buchanan—you’re used 


to it.” 

Mr. Clay never let pass an opportunity for a fling at Mr. Buchanan, 
after the latter had written his famous letter, charging bribery and 
corruption in the election of John Quincy Adams to the Presidency 
of the House of Representatives. In the course of a speech in the 
Senate, Mr. Buchanan stated that when a young man he joined a vol¬ 
unteer militia company that marched from Lancaster to the relief of 
Baltimore, when the Monumental City was threatened b}' the British 
during the war of 1812. Upon reaching Hagerstown, however, the 
troops learning that the invaders had been repulsed at North Point, 
returned home without further participation in the war. At this point 
Clay arose, and addressing the chair, expressed a desire to ask the 
speaker a question. 

“ Certainly,” was the courteous response. 





AND THE WISE. 


297 


“ I would like to inquire of the Senator from Pennsylvania,” re¬ 
marked the Great Commoner, with that inimitable twist of his cat¬ 
fish mouth, “ whether the gentleman marched to the relief of Balti¬ 
more because he had learned that the British had left, or whether the 
British had left because they heard the gentleman from Pennsylvania 
was coming.” 


A SINGULAR PRACTICE . 

Some of the hill tribes in Northern India have a peculiar way of 
sending their babies to sleep, which is thus described by a correspond¬ 
ent: “Near a hollow bamboo which served as a spout, through 
which the cool water of the mountain stream poured forth in a jet, 
was disposed the head of an infant, who was lying covered warmly, 
and fast asleep. The bamboo spout was so placed that the water 
played upon the crown of the baby’s head, over a part which 
seemed bald of hair, a consequence, perhaps, of the habitual action of 
the water. The children (there were two of them) were lying on 
their right sides and perfectly still, one would fancy in a state of 
stupefaction. They had been lying for an hour and a half, we were 
told, and would be there till nine at night, in all between four and 
five hours. I felt the face of one of them and found it cold, and then 
held the wrist, but could detect no pulse. Yet the hill people are con¬ 
vinced that the strange practice, which is quite general, helps to 
. strengthen the brain, and make the children not only healthy, but 
hardy and fearless.” 

HORSEMANSHIP IN INDIA . 

Every one knows that tent pegging means riding at full tilt with 
a lance at a tent peg driven deep into the ground and carrying it off, 
if successful, on the point of the lance. If any one thinks it is easy to 
do this from the simple description, let him try it at Aldershot or else¬ 
where, remembering, however, that Indian tent pegs are larger, 
longer, and stick deeper than those at home. The troopers dashed 
full gallop, one after the other at the pegs, which were replaced as 
fast as they were drawn. Then rupees were put on the tent pegs to 


^98 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


be knocked off by the lance point without touching the peg. That 
was done better and oftener than the succeeding exercise of cutting or 
spearing oranges on the tent peg tops. Handkerchiefs were laid on 
the ground, and the troopers, riding hard, made swoops at them and 
missed them, or caught them up. One man managed to take three in 
succession in the same gallop. There were exhibitions of horseman¬ 
ship which might be described as of circus character, but for this dif¬ 
ference—the horses were not ridden at a regulation stride at a skillfully 
adjusted angle, but were ridden boldly about on the hard plain, and 
everything was done by hand, bit, and balance. — Cor. London Limes. 

-0*Ov>o.~0- 

THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. 

The following is the incident which occurred during the memo¬ 
rable siege of .Sevastopol, on which Tennyson’s poem is founded: 

After the British troops had performed prodigies of valor, and had 
forced the Russians to desist from their attacks, an order to advance 
was brought to Lord Lucan, who commanded the organization known 
as the “ Light Brigade,” which numbered about 630 men. “Advance 
whither?” was the question. “ There is the enemy, sir, and there are 
the guns,” was the reply. 

Six battalions of artillery, six solid masses of cavalry, and thirty 
heavy guns, directly in position, were in front of them; on the right 
were the redoubts and their batteries which had just been .taken from 
their cowardly Turkish allies; and on the left were slopes lined with 
riflemen and light field pieces. And there was a mile and a half to 
be traversed before an enemy could be reached. But the order had 
been delivered, and—the order was obeyed. They rode the distance 
through a perfect storm of murderous missiles, took the guns, cut their 
way through the infantry and cavalry, and then, after reaching the 
banks of the Tchernaya, and finding themselves unsupported, turned 
about and rode back. When the gallant corps returned, they were 
not “ the six hundred,”—only one hundred and fifty wheeled about 
and faced the enemy with a cheer of defiance, and with the precision 
of a dress parade. It has never been explained in what way the order 
came to be given. Capt. Nolan, the man who delivered it, was the 
first man who fell. 




AND THE WISE. 


299 



g#HIS is a question that has been asked a great many times, 
^^jpf but never satisfactorily answered. On the 26th of May, 
^ 7$ 1828, a citizen of Nuremberg, while loitering in front of his 

house, on the outskirts of the town, saw tottering toward 
him a lad of sixteen or seventeen years, coarsely and thinly clad. 
The first impression produced by his appearance was, that he was 
some lunatic or idiot, escaped from confinement. He was taken 
charge of by the police. His conduct was peculiar. He showed no 
past knowledge or consciousness of what was passing around him. 
His look was a brutish stare; but on a pen and paper being placed 
before him, he wrote in a clear and distinct hand, “ Caspar Hauser.” 
By this name he was ever after known. Public attention was early 
attracted to his case, and being utterly helpless, he was formally 
adopted by one of the German cities, and became not only a universal 
pet, but a person whom people flocked from all parts to see. All 
Europe became interested in the man. The papers teemed with arti¬ 
cles and conjectures. As Caspar’s education slowly progressed, he was 
able to tell a little, and only a little, of his former life. His story was 
that he had always lived in a cellar, and, as he described it, in a cage. 
He had no recollection of anything previous to that life. His only 
food and drink had been bread and water. He never saw but the one 
man who took care of him. He always sat upon the ground, with 
his feet stretched out before him. Toward the last he had been taught 
to write his name, and had been made to stand on his feet several 
times. 

In 1827 an attempt was made upon his life, which, however, was 
unsuccessful. He was afterward adopted by the Earl of Stanhope, 
and removed to Anspach. In 1833 a second attempt, and this time a 
successful one, was made upon his life. He was found in a remote 
part of the city, stabbed to the heart. After his death, the discussion 
as to who he was broke out afresh. Stanhope himself, his benefactor, 
expressed his belief that Caspar was a fraud; while others, equally 
distinguished, giving a vast amount of labor to the solution ot the 







300 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


mystery, avowed their belief that he belonged to some noble family, 
and that he had been put out of the way to make room for some one 
else. It was even asserted that Stanhope’s course pointed to his 
knowing more about the case than he was willing to tell. The 
question never has been solved, and doubtless never will be. The 
whole story is a sorrowful and pathetic one. Caspar himself was a 
person of peculiarly amiable temperament, whose singular and inter¬ 
esting history, so deeply involved in mystery, has engaged the atten¬ 
tion of the whole world.— Condensed from Atlantic Monthly . 


?<S^((#)>»fcS>o -«j> - 3< « 


Y OP 





T has been said that probably there were not three living women 
whose names were more widely known than is that of Laura 
Bridgman. The story is full of pathos. She was the daughter 
of Daniel and Harmony Bridgman, and was born in Hanover, 
N. H., Dec. 21, 1829. At the age of two years, owing to a severe 
attack of scarlet fever, her eyesight and hearing were destroyed com¬ 
pletely, and she also lost the sense of smell and the sense of taste, 
and because she was deaf she was also dumb. With her sickness and 
the loss of her faculties, had faded out all remembrance of her former 
life. Only one sense was left her—that of feeling, and guided by 
this slender thread, she began anew the journey of her life. Her case 
early enlisted public sympathy, and among other visitors, of which 
she had many, was S. G. Howe, director of the Institution for the 
Blind, in Boston, who formed a theory for reaching a mind so 
inclosed, and giving the child at least a passable education. When 
eight years old, she was accordingly brought to the institution, where 
she remained almost continuously for fifteen or twenty years, during 
which time she accomplished a thorough course of education in the 
English branches, including mathematics, geography, natural sciences, 
etc. It is interesting to read the account of the manner in which she 
was at first taught the names of the simplest objects. Dr. Howe, in 
writing of her at this time, said: “ Her mind dwells in darkness and 
stillness as profound as that of a closed tomb at night; of beautiful 







AND THE WISE. 


SOI 

sights and sweet sounds, and pleasant odors, she has no conception; 
nevertheless she seems as happy and playful as a bird or lamb.” 
During the course of her long education, she seems to have been 
blessed with the most patient and the wisest of instructors, and she 
developed into a very lovely woman, in whom the spiritual faculties 
seemed to predominate. Almost incredible stories have been told of 
the acuteness of her perceptive faculties. Her case engaged the atten¬ 
tion of leading educators, and the people generally at home and 
abroad, and the story of her life will always be one of singular and 
pathetic interest .—Mary Swift Lamson , her Biographer . 



INSTANCES OP GREAT STRENGTH . 

Thomas Topham, of London, born in 1710, was endowed by 
nature with muscular powers exceeding anything on record. In 1741 
he lifted a weight of 1,836 pounds, in the presence of thousands of 
spectators assembled to witness his feats. Coming up to a toll-gate on 
a journey, he lifted his horse over the gate, and set him down on the 
other side. On another occasion, he broke a rope fastened to the 
floor, that would sustain 20 hundred weight. He took Mr. Cham¬ 
bers, Vicar of All Saints, who weighed 27 stone, and raised him 
with one hand. One night, perceiving a watchman asleep in his box, 
he raised them both from the ground with the greatest ease, and 
dropped them over the wall of the Tindall’s burying ground. The 
consternation of the watchman, at being thus awakened, may be imag¬ 
ined. On board of a West-India man-of-war, he was presented with 
a cocoanut, which he cracked between his fingers and thumb, close to 
the ear of one of the sailors, with the same ease as an ordinary person 
would crush an egg-shell. It is said of Milo of Crete, that he killed 
an ox with his fist, and then carried it more than 600 feet. He also 
saved the life of his fellow-scholars and teacher, Pythagoras, by sup¬ 
porting the falling roof until they had time to escape. Another man 
is mentioned, who could raise 300 pounds by the muscles of his lower 
jaw. A flea harnessed will draw from 70 to 80 times its own weight, 
while a horse cannot draw more than 6 times his weight. The flea 





3Q2 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


weighs less than a grain, and will clear several feet at a leap. The 
common dorr beetle, weighing but 15 grains, has been known to 
heave a weight placed upon him amounting to 4,769 grains, or nearly 


320 times his own weight.— Various Standard Authorities. 




“ It would awaken the seven sleepers,” is a common saying, but 
we venture to say that half who use it do not know its origin. The 
legend runs that seven noble youths of Ephesus, during the persecu¬ 
tion of the Christians by Decius, a Roman emperor of the third cen¬ 
tury, fled, and took refuge in a cavern; and, having been pursued and 
discovered, they were walled in, and thus left to perish. They are 
said to have fallen asleep, and in that state were miraculously pre¬ 
served for nearly two centuries, when, their bodies having been found 
in the cavern, they were taken out and exposed to the veneration of the 
faithful. Then it was said these holy martyrs were not dead; that 
they had been hidden in the cavern, where they had fallen asleep, and 
that they at last awoke, to the astonishment of the spectators. 



EIGHTEEN HUNDRED YEARS AFTER DEA 


A correspondent of Appleton's Journal , writing of excavations at 
Pompeii, says: 

“ Among the most interesting of the objects found recently are 
two skeletons, one of a somewhat elderly man, the other of a woman. 
They were found in the Via Stabia, among the ashes of the last erup¬ 
tion, evidently overtaken in their flight, and buried in the cinders. 
According to the usual method employed to preserve the external 
appearance of objects, liquid plaster was poured into the cavity, which, 
serving as a mould, a fac simile of the forms was obtained; and thus, 
perfectly preserved, the statue-like bodies were placed in glass cases 
in the Pompeii museum. While appreciating all the horror of such 
a death, and the suffering endured, as shown by the position, I cannot 
but imagine what would have been the astonishment of that man or 



THE TWO LITTLE ORPHANS 







































AND THE WISE. 


woman, had some prophet informed them that eighteen hundred 
years after their death their forms, and even as much of their gar¬ 
ments as were not consumed in the eruption, would be placed in a 
museum for inspection by a multitude of sight seers, some from lands, 
the existence of which they had never dreamed. 

The poor woman is lying on her face, and even the form of her 
hair, put up behind, is seen. One arm shields her forehead, and she 
is supported by the other. Her stony limbs are well formed, and 
traces of a garment are seen passing in folds around her. The man, 
although placed on his back in the exhibition, when found, was turned 
on his side. One arm rests on his hip; the other is uplifted. The 
face is somewhat distorted, but massive, and smoothly shaven. Even 
the form of the fastenings of the sandals around the ankle, and of the 
long button higher up on the leg to hold them, is clearly seen. The 
limbs are partly drawn up. The skeleton of a tolerably large dog, 
also recently found, is in the museum of Pompeii, his whole form pre¬ 
served in plaster, in the same manner as those just mentioned. He 
is lying on his back, writhing in suffering, biting his hind leg. The 
rings and collar are plainly seen.” 


SOME REMINISCENCES OF LINCOLN 

Lincoln particularly liked a joke at the expense of the dignity of 
some high civil or military official. One day, not long before his sec¬ 
ond inauguration, he asked me if I had heard about Stanton’s meeting 
a picket on Broad'River, South Carolina, and then told his story: 
General Foster, then at Port Royal, escorted the Secretary up the 
river, taking a quartermaster’s tug. Reaching the outer lines of the 
river, a picket roared from the bank, “ Who have you got on board 
that tug?” The severe and dignified answer was, “The Secretary of 
War and General Foster.” Instantly the picket roared back, “ We’ve 
got Major-Generals enough up here—why don’t you bring us some 
hardtack?” The story tickled Lincoln mightily, and he told it till it 
was replaced by a new one. Anything that savored of the wit and 
humor of the soldiers was especially welcome to Lincoln. There was 
a story of a soldier in the Army of the Potomac, carried to the rear 


304 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


of the battle with both legs shot off, who, seeing a pie-woman hover¬ 
ing about, asked, “Say, old lady, are them pies sewed or pegged?” 
And there was another one of a soldier at the battle of Chancellors- 
ville, whose regiment, waiting to be called into the fight, was taking 
coffee. The hero of the story put to his lips a crockery mug which 
he had carried with infinite care, through several campaigns. A stray 
bullet, just missing the coffee-drinker’s head, dashed the mug into 
fragments, and left only its handle on his finger. Turning his head 
in that direction, the soldier angrily growled, “Johnny, you can’t do 
that again!” Lincoln, relating these two stories together, said, “It 
seems neither death nor danger could quench the grim humor of the 
American soldier.”— Century Magazine. 

THE DISCOVERER OP GOLD IN CALIFORNIA . 

Gold was first discovered in California in February, 1848, a time 
remarkable for political upheavals that convulsed or emptied one-half 
the thrones in Europe. A man named Marshall found the treasure 
in the soil in General Sutter’s form, in Coloma county. The news, 
at first told in awe-stricken whispers, and received with doubt, was 
speedily noised abroad over the world—the evangel of a new crusade. 
The pilgrimage of enterprise and hope grew with every hour, taking 
from every village the men of courage and intelligence; the move¬ 
ments of the eleventh century, by comparison, dwindled to the pace 
of a schoolboy. Before the end of ’48 the tide of emigration to Cal¬ 
ifornia, from all parts of the world, was represented by 50,000 stal¬ 
wart men, foot-loose from Old World conventions, and resolved on new 
modes of life. 


S— 1 - f kr- 0^0—^--■— S. 

ORATORY OP EDMUND BURKE . 

Among the most memorable displays of oratory, few are more 
familiar to the ordinary reader than those which took place during the 
trial of Warren Hastings in Westminster Hall. It is said that when 
Burke, with an imagination almost as oriental as scenes he depicted, 





AND THE WISE. 


30S 


described, in words that will live as long as the English language, the 
cruelties inflicted upon the natives of India by Debi Sing, one of 
Hastings’ agents, a convulsive shudder ran through the whole as¬ 
sembly. Indignation and rage filled the breasts of his hearers; some 
of the ladies “swooned away;” and Hastings himself, though he had 
protested his innocence, was utterly overwhelmed. “ For half an 
hour,” he said afterward, in describing the scene, “ I looked at the 
orator in a revery of wonder, and actually felt myself to be the most 
culpable man on earth.”— William Mathews. 

•—— 


EFFECT OF DANIEL WEBS TEE'S ORATORY. 

The accounts given of the effects wrought by some of Daniel 
Webster’s speeches, seem almost incredible to those who never have 
listened to his clarion-like voice and weighty words. Yet even now, 
as we read some of the stirring passages in his early discourses, we 
can hardly realize that we are not standing by as he strangles the re- 
luctantes dracones of an adversary, or actually looking upon the 
scenes in American history which he so vividly describes. Prof. 
Ticknor, speaking in one of his letters of the intense excitement with 
which he listened to Webster’s Plymouth address, says: “ Three or 

four times I thought my temples would burst with the gush of blood; 
for, after all, you must know that I am aware it is no connected and 
compacted whole, but a collection of wonderful fragments of burning 
eloquence, to which his manner gave tenfold force. When I came 
out, I was almost afraid to come near him. It seemed to me that he 
was like the mount that might not be touched, and that burned with 
fire.”— William Mathews. 


A GREAT EXPEDITION. 

One of the most notable expeditions known to history, is that of 
Pizarro, who invaded Peru. Atahuallpa, its Inca, visited the Spanish 
camp in the area of Caxamalca. Friar Vincente de Valverde at¬ 
tempted to secure from him an acceptance of the Catholic faith, and 
20 




306 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


an acknowledgement of submission to the Spanish government. At 
the refusal of the Peruvian monarch, he and his attendants were as¬ 
sailed at a given signal, and after a great massacre, Atahuallpa 
was taken captive. No Spaniard was killed. The people all 
seemed weak as soon as their leader was taken. Atahuallpa offered 
to fill the room in which he was confined, twenty-two feet long, and 
seventeen feet wide, full of gold, to a height of nine feet, as a ran¬ 
som. He also promised to fill another room twice full of silver. 
Pizarro accepted his offer, and messengers were at once sent forth to 
collect gold and silver from all parts of the realm. It is related that 
Atahuallpa, while in prison, got some Spaniard to write the name of 
God upon his thumb nail, and presented it to every one who visited 
him. When each gave him the same explanation, his wonder increased 
at the silent writing. When Francisco Pizarro came to his cell, the 
Inca held up the same to him, and noticing the confusion in the look 
of the conqueror, who could neither read nor write, he ever after 
esteemed the Spanish leader an inferior man. 




One hundred years ago not a pound of coal, not a cubic foot of 
illuminating gas had been burned in this country. No iron stoves 
were used, and no contrivance economizing heat employed until Dr. 
Franklin invented the iron-framed fireplace, which still bears his 
name. All the cooking and warming in town and country were done 
by the aid of fire kindled in the brick oven or on the hearth. Pine 
knots or tallow candles furnished the light for long winter nights, and 
sanded floors supplied the place of rugs and carpets. The water used 
for household purposes, was drawn from deep wells by the creaking 
sweep. No form of pump was used in this country so far as we can 
learn, until after the commencement of the j^resent century. There 
were no friction matches in those early days, by the aid of which a fire 
could easily be kindled; and if the fire “went out upon the hearth” 
over night, and the tinder was damp, so that the sparks would not 
catch, the alternative was presented of wandering through the snow a 




AND THE WISE. 


mile or so to borrow of a neighbor. Only one room in any house 
was kept warm, unless some of the family were ill. In all the rest 
the temperature was at zero many nights in the winter. 

S--- S 


It has recently been discovered that, submerged beneath the waves 
of the Lake of Geneva, in Switzerland, is a perfect city. Investiga¬ 
tions by divers have revealed its principal features. The London 
Telegraph says: “ There are about two hundred houses arranged 
over an oblong surface, near the middle of which is a space more 
open, supposed to have been used for public assemblages. At the 
eastern extremity lies a large square tower, which was taken for a 
rock. A superficial investigation seems to indicate that the construc¬ 
tion of these buildings dates from some centuries before our era. The 
Council of Vaud has decided to have the site of the dwellings inclosed 
by a jetty stretching from the land, and to drain off the water, so as to 
bring to light what promises to be one of the most interesting archaeo¬ 
logical discoveries of our day.” 


He appears to be a man whom nothing would excite; and one of 
his brokers says, you never can tell from his expression when he reads 
a telegram whether he has made five millions or lost ten. He is, on 
the whole, the most incomprehensible of New Yorkers. He is an em¬ 
bodiment of the money-making faculty. It would be a hard question 
to tell what Gould is worth. I know men who believe he is to-day 
the richest citizen in New York. I know others who are confident 
he is not worth over a million, and others who do not hesitate to pro¬ 
nounce him on the eve of bankruptcy. But this last is preposterous. 
He is incessantly engaged in great operations, and these cannot be 
managed without vast sums. He is determined no one shall be ac- 
quainted with his affairs. Despite his outward immobility, the strain 
of his colossal operations upon his brain and nerves cannot be other- 




308 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


wise than very wearing. It is said that he is troubled with sleepless¬ 
ness, and that many of his gigantic schemes are worked out in bed 
while he is lying awake. Occasionally he gets up at night, lights the 
gas, walks the floor, and tears paper into bits. It may be remembered 
that Fisk testified on his investigation by the Congressional Commit¬ 
tee, respecting the transactions of Black Friday, that he observed Jay 
Gould tearing up paper, and throwing the pieces into the waste¬ 
basket, and that then he knew his partner had some work on hand. 
He scarcely ever smiles, and never lifts his voice above a conversa¬ 
tional tone. He has no friends, so far as known; but a host of 
enemies. His life is in great speculations. His greatest crime in the 
eyes of his fellow-speculators is, that he succeeds in doing to Wall 
Street what Wall Street is perpetually trying, but in vain, to do to 
him.— The Chicago Times. 





>-•>- 




T is related of Nathan Mayer Rothschild, that, all day long, at 
the Battle of Waterloo, he hung about the skirts of the two 
^ armies, waiting to see how the battle turned. Toward night of 
T that memorable day, the clouds of smoke lifting, revealed the 
French army in full and disastrous retreat. 

Rothschild took in the situation at once. True to his instincts, he 
saw in the awful carnage only the shimmer of his gold. Chance had 
overcome the most heroic valor, the most stubborn resistance, the best- 
laid plans, and once more declared in the Hebrew’s favor. He dashed 
into Brussels, whence a carriage in waiting whirled him into Ostend. 
At dawn he stood on the Belgian coast, against which the sea was 
madly breaking. He offered five, six, eight, ten hundred francs to be 
carried over to England. The mariners feared the storm; but a 
bolder fisherman, upon promise of twenty-five hundred francs, under¬ 
took the hazardous voyage. Before sunset Rothschild landed at 
Dover; and, engaging the swiftest horses, rode with the wind to Lon¬ 
don. What a superb special correspondent he would have made! 

The merchants and bankers were dejected; the funds were de- 













AND THE WISE. 


§09 


pressed; a dense fog hung over the city; English souls had sunk into 
their pockets. On the morning of the 20th, the cunning and grasping 
Nathan appeared at the Stock Exchange, an embodiment of gloom. 
He mentioned, confidentially, of course, to his familiars that Blucher, 
at the head of his vast army of veterans, had been defeated by Napo¬ 
leon at Ligny on the 16th and 17th, and there could be no hope for 
Wellington, with his comparatively small and undisciplined force. 
This was half true, and like all half-truths, was particularly calculated 
to deceive. Rothschild was a leader among trading reynards. His 
doleful whisper spread as the plague—poisoning faith everywhere. 
The funds tumbled like an aerolite. Public and private opinion wilted 
before the simoom of calamitous report. It was Black Friday antici¬ 
pated in Lombard Street. The crafty Israelite bought, through his 
secret agents, all the consols, bills, and notes he could raise money for. 
Not before the afternoon of the 21st—nearly forty-eight hours after the 
battle—did the news of Wellington’s victory reach London through 
the regular channels. Rothschild was at the Exchange half an hour 
before the glad tidings were made public, and imparted them to a 
crowd of greedy listeners. The Bourse was buoyant. Everything 
went up more rapidly than it had gone down. England was happy— 
as well she might be—for she had stumbled into the greatest triumph 
in her history. When merchants and bankers shook hands with the 
Hebrew speculator, they noticed—though they did not understand— 
an unusual warmth of pressure. It was not rejoicing with the nation; 
it was the imaginary clutching of six millions more of gold.— Junius 
Henri Browne, in Harper's Magazine. 


A BOY'S COURAGE. 

Governor Letcher, the other day, related a very interesting incident 
of the war, while in Kemper’s room at the hotel. He said that in one 
of the battles below Richmond four flag-bearers had been shot down, 
and a call was made for a volunteer to carry the colors. A stripling 
took the torn standard. In a few minutes the staff was snapped by a 
shot. The boy sat down, unloosed a shoe string, and tied it. He 
started in front again. Another bullet splintered the staff. It was 




THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL. 


§10 

then fastened by the other shoe string. He had hardly shook the folds 
out a second time, when down fell the flag, struck by a ball. The 
shoe strings had given out. He unbuttoned his jacket, ripped his 
shirt into ribbons, and wrapped the broken rod, and carried the 
tattered ensign through the fight. Governor Letcher said: a When 
they brought me the boy, with the shattered staff patched with shoe 
strings and shirt tail, I made him an officer, and gave him the best 
sword Virginia had.” The gallant fellow was from Monroe county. 
He was killed in battle. 



In the ritual churches of Europe, vocal music, and the cultivation 
of choirs, is carried to greater perfection than anywhere else in the 
world. The monastery of St. Alexander Nevski (or Nefski), in St. 
Petersburg, has the celebrated bass singers whom every traveler 
goes to hear. Members of this chorus are evidently selected for their 
magnitude of voice with as much care as were King Frederick’s 
grenadiers for the enormity of size. 

The singers, some twenty-five, stand in a semi-cirele, facing the 
altar, the priests fronting them. They are monks, except a few boys 
and youths for the higher parts. The young priest rattles off the ser¬ 
vice in a monotone, until approaching the point where he is to pause, 
when, in uttering the last few words, he runs up the scale until it 
strikes the key-note for the choristers, when the latter, as with one 
voice, take up the note, and glide off into the responsive chant, than 
which nothing more exquisite can be conceived. To say that the 
voices were grand would be tame praise. 

In chanting the chief portion of the role , their richness and 
grandeur of harmony with the other parts, and even in the diminu- 
endoes, are comparatively fine; but when approaching the close, they 
swell out into a crescendo language fails to describe; the depth, the 
volume, the majesty, the power, is like the voice of many thunders, 
breaking on the ears in ponderous peals, and then passing off in a 
majestic roll. 

This having continued for some time, the semi-circle of choristers 




AND THE WISE. 


311 


divides in the middle, and one-half marches off on either side, chant¬ 
ing, until they reach a screen, behind which they pass, when, as if 
from a distance, they sing from either side responsively, until, growing 
fainter and fainter, in sweetest soft harmony it dies away. 




Dorry, a boy, six years old, thinks he will do as other men have 
done: 

March 12—Have resolved to keep a journal. 

March 13—Had rost befe for dinner, and cabbage, and potatoe 
and apple sawse, and rice pudding. I do not like rice pudding when 
it is like ours. Charley Slack’s kind is rele good. Mush and syrup 


for tea 


March 19—Forgot what did. John and me saved our pie to take 
to schule. 

March 21—Forgit what did. Gridle-cakes for breakfast. Debby 
didn’t fry enough. 

March 24—This is Sunday. Corn befe for dinner. Studdied my 
Bible lesson. Aunt Issy said I was greedy. Have resolved not to 
think so much about things to ete. Wish I was a better boy. Nothing 
perticler for tea. 

March 25—Forgit what did. 

March 27—Forgit what did. 

March 29—Played. 

March 31—Forgit what did. 

April 1—Have dessided not to keep a journal enny more. 



ASSUMED NAME OP AUTHORS . 


Acton Bell. 

Agate.. 

A* L* O* . • •. •. 

Americus. 

Amy Lothrop. 


ASSUMED NAME. 


REAL NAME. 

Anne Bronte, sister of Charlotte. 
Whitelaw Reid. 

Miss Charlotte Tucker. 

Dr. Francis Lieber. 

Miss Anna B. Warner. 












312 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


ASSUMED NAME. 


REAL NAME. 




American Girl Abroad. 

Artemus Ward. 

Asa Trenchard. 

Aunt Kitty. 

Aunt Mary. 

Barnacle. 

Barry Cornwall. 

Benauly. 

Besieged Resident. 

Bibliophile. 

Bill Arp. 

Bookworm.. 

Boston Bard. 

Boz. 

Brick Pomeroy. 

Burleigh. 

Burlington. 

Christopher Crowfield.. 
Chrystal Croftangry.... 

Claribel.. 

Country Parson.. 

Cousin Alice.. 

Cousin Kate.. 

Currer Bell. 

Dolores. 

Dunn Browne. 

E. D. E. N............. 

Edmund Kirke. 

Eleanor Kirke. 

Elia. 

Eli Perkins. 

Elizabeth Wetherell. 

Ella Rodman. 

Ellis Bell... 

Ettrick Shepherd. 

Eugene Pomeroy.. 

Falconbridge. 

Fanny Fern. 

Fanny Forester. 

Fat Contributor. 

Florence Percy... 

Gail Hamilton.... 

Gath, also Laertes 


.Miss Trafton. 

.Charles F. Browne. 

.Henry Watterson. 

.Maria J. Macintosh. 

.Mary A. Lathbury. 

. ... .A. C. Barnes. 

.Bryan Waller Procter. 

.Benjamin, Austin and Lyman Abbott. 

.Henry Labouchere. 

.Samuel Austin Allibone. 

.Charles H. Smith. 

... .Thomas F. Donnelly. 

.... Robert S. Coffin. 

.Charles Dickens. 

.Mark M. Pomeroy. 

... .Rev. Matthew Hale Smith. 

,... . Robert Saunders. 

... .Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe. 

... .Sir Walter Scott. 

.... Mrs. Caroline Barnard. 

.... A. K. H. Boyd. 

....Mrs. Alice B. Haven. 

.... Catherine D. Bell. 

... .Charlotte Bronte (Mrs. Nichols). 

.... Miss Dickson. 

... .Rev. Samuel Fiske. 

... .Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

... .James Roberts Gilmore. 

... .Mrs. Nolly Ames. 

... . Charles Lamb 
... .Matthew D. Landon. 

... .Susan Warner. 

... . Mrs. Eliza Rodman. 

....Emily Bronte. 

... .James Hogg. 

... .Thomas F. Donnelly. 

... Jonathan F. Kelly 

-wife of James Parton and sister of N. P. Will 

... .Emily C. Judson. 

.... A. M. Griswold. 

. .. .Mrs. Elizabeth Akers. 

-Miss Mary Abigail Dodge, of Hamilton. 

... George Alfred Townsend. 











































AND THE WISE. 


S13 


ASSUMED NAME. REAL NAME. 

Geoffrey Crayon.Washington Irving. 

George Eliot.Mrs. Marian Lewes Cross. 

George Fitzdoodle.William Makepeace Thackeray. 

George Sand.Madame Amantine Lucille Aurore Dudevant- 

Grace Greenwood.Mrs. Sara J. Lippincott. 

Hans Breitmann.Charles Godfrey Leland. 

Hans Yokel. .A. Oakey Hall. 

Harriet Myrtle...Mrs. Lydia F. F. Miller. 

Harry Hazell.Justin Jones. 

Hesba Stretton.Miss Hannah Smith. 

Hibernicus.De Witt Clinton. 

Historicus.Wm. Geo. Vernon Harcourt. 

Hosea Bigelow.James Russell Lowell. 

Howard.Mordecai Manuel Noah. 

Howard Glyndon.Laura C. Redden. 

Hyperion. . . Josiah Quincy. 

Ik Marvel..Donald G. Mitchell. 

Irenaeus.Rev. S. Irenaeus S. Prime, D. D. 

Isabel.William Gilmore Simms. 

Jaques.J. Hain Friswell. 

Jay Charlton.J. C. Goldsmith. 

Jennie June.Mrs. Jennie Cunningham Croly. 

John Chalkhill.Izaak Walton. 

John Darby..J. C. Garretson 

John Paul. . .C. H. Webb. 

John Phoenix, Gentleman.George H. Derby. 

Josh Billings.Henry W. Shaw. 

Kate Campbell.Jane Elizabeth Lincoln. 

K. N. Pepper.James M. Morris. 

Laicus.Rev. Lyman Abbott. 

Mark Twain.... ,.. .. .Samuel L. Clemens. 

Max Adler.Charles H. Clark. 

Minnie Myrtle. .Miss Anna C. Johnson. 

Mintwood.Miss Mary A. E. Wager. 

M. Quad.Charles B. Lewis. 

Mrs. Partington.B. P. Shillaber. 

M. T. Jug.Joseph Howard. 

Ned Buntline.Edward Z. C. Judson. 

Nym Crinkle.. A. C. Wheeler. 

Old Bachelor.Geo. Wm. Curtis. 

Old Cabinet.R. Watson Gilder. 

Old ’Un .Francis Alexander Durivage. 

Oliver Optic.William Taylor Adams. 











































314 THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


ASSUMED NAME. 


REAL NAME. 


Orpheus C. Kerr. 

Ouida. 

Owen Meredith. 

Parson Brownlow. 

Paid Creyton. 

Pen Holder. 

Perdita. 

Peter Parley. 

Petroleum V. Nasby. 

Phoenix. 

Poor Richard. 

Porte Crayon. 

Private Miles O’Reilly.... 
Q. K. Philander Doesticks, 

Runnymede. 

Saxe Holm. 

Shirley Dare. 

Sophie May. 

Sophie Sparkle. 

Susan Coolidge. 

Timothy Titcomb. 

Veteran Observer. 

Walter Maynard. 

Warhawk. 

Warrington. 

Warwick. 


.Robert H. Newell. 

.Louisa De La Rame. 

.Lord Lytton. 

.William Gunnaway Brownlow. 

.J. T. Trowbridge. 

.Rev. Edward Eggleston. 

.Mrs. Mary Robinson. 

.S. G. Goodrich. 

.D. R. Locke. 

.Sir Henry Martin. 

.Benjamin Franklin. 

.David H. Strother. 

.Charles G. Halpine. 

P. B.Mortimer M. Thompson 

.Lord Beaconsfield. 

.Miss Rush Ellis. 

.Miss Susan Dunning. 

.Mrs Eckerson. 

.Jennie E. Hicks. 

.Miss Woolsey. 

.Dr. J. G. Holland. 

.E. D. Mansfield. 

.William Beale. 

.William Palmer. 

.W. P. Robinson. 

.... F. O. Otterson. 



A BRILLIANT RECEPTION 

It is well known that the late William H. Seward, in his journey 
around the world, was the recipient of many distinguished honors. 
Miss Olive Risley Seward, his daughter, and a member of his com¬ 
pany, gives the following account of their reception at Putteeala, in 
British India: 

The presentations being over, a multitude of servants, “ that no 
man in haste could number,” came, bearing silver trays on their heads, 
filled with India fabrics of muslins, cambrics, cashmeres, silks, and 
jewels, and laid the whole at Mr. Seward’s feet, the trays covering 
twenty feet square on the floor. The Prince, with infinite gravity, 

























AND THE WISE. 


3I£> 


invited Mr. Seward to accept this “small and unworthy collection,” as 
a token of His Highness’ respect and affection. Mr. Seward, having 
been previously instructed, touched with his finger the simplest 
article, a turban scarf of purple interwoven with gold thread. The 
trays and their bearers immediately disappeared, but only to be re¬ 
placed by a similar display, no less costly and elegant. These treas¬ 
ures were laid at the feet of one of the ladies, who was asked to accept 
this “ poor trash.” In accordance with an intimation through an 
officer, she touched a cashmere shawl. The train and merchandise 
disappeared, and the third and equal presentation was made to the 
second lady, who in like manner touched a shawl. The Prince, who 
had looked on with an air of supreme indifference to the whole pro¬ 
ceeding, then said to Mr. Seward, «I have a great many other things 
in the palace, which I should like to present to you, but I will not 
take up your time to look at them.” Then, thanking Mr. Seward 
and the ladies for having accepted these « unworthy trifles,” he, in a 
loud voice, and with an imperious manner, directed that all the articles 
which had been thus displayed and offered to us, should be conveyed 
to Mr. Seward’s palace, and delivered to his servants. For our part, 
we are quite sure that “ these unworthy trifles ” would have been 
sufficient to stock an Indian bazar in New York. 


Every one has heard the old story of the silent man, who, riding 
over a bridge, asked his servant if he liked eggs? to which the ser¬ 
vant answered, “Yes.” Nothing more passed till the next year, 
when, riding over the same bridge, he turned to his servant and said, 
“How?” “Poached, sir,” was the immediate answer. Sidney 
Smith cites two instances of absence of mind, which struck his fancy: 
« I heard of a clergyman who went jogging along the road till he 
came to a turnpike: “ What is to pay?” “ Pay, sir, for what!” asked 
the turnpike man. “ Why, for my horse, to be suie. oui hoisc, 

sir? What horse? There is no horse, sir!” “ No horse? God bless 
me,” said he, suddenly looking between his legs, «I thought I was 
on horseback.” Lord Dudley was one of the most absent-minded men 






316 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


I think I ever met in society. One day he met me in the street and 
invited me to meet myself. “ Dine with me to-day,” said he, “ and I 
will get Sidney Smith to meet you.” I admitted the temptation he 
held out to me, but said I was engaged to meet him elsewhere. 

D’Israeli says, it has been told of a modern astronomer, that one 
summer night when he was withdrawing to his chamber, the bright¬ 
ness of the heavens showed a phenomenon. He passed the whole 
night in observing it, and when they came to him early in the morn¬ 
ing, and found him in the same attitude, he said, like one who had 
been collecting his thoughts for a few moments: “ It must be thus; 
but I will go to bed before it is too late.” He had gazed the entire 
night in meditation, and was not aware of it. 

The Count De Brancas was one day reading in his study when a 
nurse brought in a little infant; he put down his book, took up the 
infant, and caressed it admiringly. A friend came in, and Brancas 
threw the baby down on the table, thinking it was a book. A loud 
crying announced his mistake.— Selected . 



The late Lord Beaconsfield, in an address before the Literary and 
Scientific Institution of London, in 1844, ear ^y life, gave utter¬ 
ance to these impressive words: 

“ Man can be what he pleases; every one of you can be exactly 
what he designs to be. I have resolved to hold a certain position, 
and, if I live, I will” 

We do not know what the position was that D’lsraeli here refers 
to, but we do know that he attained to the highest position possible to 
any man in England. He had much to contend with; he was a Jew; 
but, by the mere power of his will, he ejected the Jew blood from his 
veins, and pumped the blue blood of England in! and then, with a 
daring and sublime effrontery, he climbed into the seat next to the 
great white throne of the Queen herself. It may be interesting to 
know whether, in the course of his long and eminently successful 
public life, he had any occasion to modify the somewhat remarkable 







AND THE WISE. 


SIZ 


statement he made in 1844. The following, taken from his very 
latest work, Endymion , published in 1881, just before his death, shows 
that he had not: 

“ I have brought myself, by long meditation, to the conviction that 
a human being, with a settled purpose, must accomplish it, and that 
nothing can resist a will which will stake even existence for its fulfill¬ 
ment.” 

- 0 "» 0 ^ 0«- 0 . ■ ■ — 

QUEER NAMES. 

“Neal & Pray” was the title of a house in New England, of 
which both members were anything but religiously inclined. “ Robb 
& Steel ” was another firm, in which both members were noted for 
their honorable character—quite as much as “Wright & Justice,” who 
were their neighbors. “ U. Ketchum & I. Cheatham ” is a well- 
known old incongruity; but the marriage of Benjamin Bird, aged 
sixty, to Julia Chaff, aged twenty, showing that “an old bird may be 
caught by chaff,” is not so familiar; nor is the marriage of George 
Virtue to Susan Vice. These collections of familiar names are “odd” 
enough; and so it is when we find in a newspaper paragraph that 
John Makepeace has been arrested for instigating a riot, or when Par¬ 
son Playfair is charged with cheating at cards. “Poor & Proud” is 
the name of a Philadelphia firm. 


PEN AND INK SKETCHES OP HENRY CLAY. 

In person, Clay was tall and commanding, being six feet and one 
inch in stature, and was noted for the erect appearance he presented, 
whether standing, walking, or talking. The most striking features 
of his countenance were a high forehead, a prominent nose, an uncom¬ 
monly large mouth, and blue eyes, which, though not particularly 
expressive when in repose, had an electrical appearance when kin¬ 
dled. His voice was one of extraordinary compass, melody and 
power. From the “ deep and dreadful sub-bass of the organ,” to the 
most aerial warblings of its highest key, hardly a pipe or stop was 




SI8 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


wanting. Like all magical voices, it had the faculty of imparting to 
the most familiar and commonplace expressions an inexpressible fas¬ 
cination. Probably no orator ever lived who, when speaking on a 
great occasion, was more completely absorbed in his theme. “ I do 
not know how it is with others,” he once said, “but, on such occa¬ 
sions, I seem to be unconscious of the external world. Wholly 
engrossed by the subject before me, I lose all sense of personal iden¬ 
tity, of time, or of surrounding objects.” When Clay had acquired a 
national fame, a plain old country gentleman gave the following toast 
at a Fourth of July dinner: “Henry Clay,— He and I were born 
close to the Slashes of old Hanover. He worked barefooted, and so 
did I; he went to mill, and so did I; he was good to his mamma, and 
so was I. I know him like a book, and love him like a brother.”— 
Political Orators . 




OVER 




The whole channel of the Mediterranean must be strewed with 
human bones. Carthagenians, Syrians, Egyptians, Sidonians, Per¬ 
sians, Greeks and Romans,—there they lie, side by side, beneath the 
eternal waters, and the modern ship that fetches freight from Alexan¬ 
dria, sails in its whole course over buried nations. It may be the cor¬ 
ruption of the dead that now adds brightness to the phosphorescence 
of the waves. All told me in the East that a superstition exists on 
this subject, which represents the spirits of the departed as hovering, 
whether on land or water, over the spots where ruins of their taber¬ 
nacles are found; so that in plowing the Mediterranean, we sail 
through armies of ghosts more multitudinous than the waves. These 
patient spirits sometimes ride on the foam, and at other times repose 
in those delicious little hollows which look like excavated emeralds 
between the crests of the waves. It is their union and thronging 
together, say the Orientals, that constitutes the phosphorescence of the 
sea; for wherever there is light, the billows flash with the luminous¬ 
ness of vanished generations, that concentrate, as it were, the starlight 
on their wings.— A?io?iyi?ious. 




AND THE WISE. 


319 


CONCERNING ROGER WILLIAMS . 


Roger Williams, the founder of Rhode Island, was banished from 
the Colony of Massachusetts in 1634,—driven in the dead of winter 
into the dense and desolate forests, by the Puritans, for contending for 
freedom of conscience in religious matters, and for other and similar 
heretical notions. u It is strange,” says Ridpath, “ that the very men 
who had so recently, through perils by sea and land, escaped with 
only their lives, to find religious freedom in another continent, should 
have begun their career with intolerance and proscription.” 


CONCERNING LA TUBE. 

La Tude, a young Frenchman, for a trifling offence was seized 
and thrown into prison by order of the cruel and vindictive woman, 
the Madame de Pompadour. There he remained until her death, in 
1764. Two years before (1762) he wrote the heartless woman as 
follows: “ I have suffered fourteen years; let all be buried forever in 
the blood of Jesus.” She remained inflexible. This young French¬ 
man remained almost continuously in prison for thirty-five years. The 
story of his prison life, and his various attempts at escape, form one of 
the most thrilling chapters in French history. 


CARLYLE AND MIS BURNED BOOK . 

When Thomas Carlyle, just now (1881) buried under English 
snow and English holly, was writing his famous history of the French 
Revolution, and when he had the first volume ready for the printer’s 
hands, he one day loaned the manuscript to John Stuart Mill, his inti¬ 
mate and admiring friend. This friend’s servant girl, seeing the pile 
on the library floor one day, and wanting some kindling, unceremo¬ 
niously crammed the whole of it into the sto\ e, and set file to it. Thus, 
the priceless labor of many years was in a few moments swept away. 
When Carlyle heard of it, from the mouth of Mill himself, his spirit 
fairly broke down under the terrible disaster. But his tears washed 


320 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL. 


out his weakness, and with a brave heart he set to work to repair the 
almost irreparable loss. He relates of himself that, when he first 
began the re-writing, and feeling still the terrible blow he had received, 
he was one day seated by the window, watching some masons at work 
on a building opposite. He noticed how, by simply putting one brick 
upon another, the huge structure finally rose. The thought gave 
him fresh courage, and so he pressed on, putting one line upon another, 
until the work was completed. And hence we have to-day the second 
creation of that important work, the French Revolution, really better 
than the first. 


Carlyle gives us, in his own language, an account of what followed 
when Mill himself came to tell them of the great loss of the destruc¬ 
tion of the manuscript: 

How well do I still remember that night when he came to tell us, 
pale as Hector’s ghost, that my unfortunate first volume was burnt. 
It was like half-sentence of death to us both, and we had to pretend 
to take it lightly, so dismal and ghastly was his horror, and try to talk 
of other matters. He staid three mortal hours or so; his departure 
was quite a relief to us. Oh, the burst of sympathy my poor darling 
then gave me, flinging her arms round my neck, and openly lament¬ 
ing, condoling, and encouraging, like a nobler, better self! Under 
heaven is nothing beautifuler. We sat talking till late. ‘ Shall be 
written again,’ my fixed word and resolution to her. Which proved 
to be such a task as I never tried before or since. I wrote out ‘ Feast 
of Pikes,’ and then went at it. Found it fairly impossible for about a 
fortnight; passed three weeks reading Marryatt’s novels, tried 
cautiously, as on ice paper-thin, once more; and, in short, had a job 
more like breaking my heart than any other in my experience. . . . 
Mill was penitently liberal; sent me T200 in a day or two, of which 
I kept «£ioo, actual cost of house while I had written burnt volume; 
upon which he bought me ‘ Biographie Universelle,’ which I got 
bound, and still have. Wish I could find a way of getting the now 
much macerated, changed and fanaticised ‘John Stuart Mill’ to take 
the T100 back; but I fear there is no way.” 



AND THE WISE. 


3%l 


CURIOUS THINGS ABOUT LONDON. 

It numbers within its boundaries 4,764,312 people. It contains 
more country-born persons than the counties of Devon and Gloucester 
combined, or 37 per cent, of its entire population. Every four min¬ 
utes a birth takes place in the metropolis, and every six minutes a 
death. There are added to the population 205 persons every day, and 
75, 000 annually. It has many thousand miles of streets, and on an 
average, 28 miles of new streets are opened, and 9,000 new houses built 
every year. It comprises upward of 100,000 foreigners from every 
part of the globe. It contains more Roman citizens than Rome 
itself; more Jews than the whole of Palestine; more Irish than Bel¬ 
fast; more Scotchmen than Aberdeen, and more Welshmen than 
Cardiff. Its gin palaces and beer shops are so numerous that their 
frontages, if placed side by side, would stretch from Charing Cross to 
Chichester, a distance of 62 miles. 


The Earthquake Terror op its®- 

^ ie memorable incidents conneted with the Foundry, the 
earthquake of 1750 is still recorded. On the 8th Feb- 
ruary all London rocked to and fro with a strong convulsion, 
and the people rushed into the streets to avoid being buried 
in the tottering houses. A month later, when Charles Wesley 
was holding the £ o’clock morning service at the Foundry Chapel, 
a far more violent shock passed beneath the city. The earth moved 
westward and eastward, and then westward again, followed by a loud 
noise like thunder. Wesley had just given out his text when the 
Foundry was shaken violently, as if the roof would fall. The 
women and children cried out, but the preacher, changing his text, 
read aloud, “ Therefore we will not fear, though the earth be moved,” 
etc., and soon filled his audience with his own unshaken courage. 
The general terror rose almost to madness when an insane prophet 
declared that on the 4th of April another earthquake would level 

London and Westminster to the dust. 

21 


A wild excitement raged 







322 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


through the city as the fatal day approached. Thousands fled to the 
country. Women and children ran through the streets on the night 
before the 4th of April, weeping and lamenting. London looked 
like a city sacked and ruined. Every open space was filled through 
the anxious night with multitudes of the rich and poor, awaiting the 
expected shock. The churches were crowded with unaccustomed 
worshipers. Whitefield stood up in Hyde Park at midnight, under an 
inclement sky, and spoke with his sonorous voice to an uncounted 
multitude; and Charles Wesley, surrounded by immense throngs at 
the Foundry, preached a “written” sermon and chanted some inspir¬ 
ing hymns. The next day passed away in quiet. The people came 
back to their houses, and London has never since felt so universal a 
terror as that of the year of the earthquakes .—Eugene Lawrence , in 
Harper's Magazine for February . 



1. George Washington—1789 to 1797—8 years. 

2. John Adams—1797 to 1801—4 years. 

3. Thomas Jefferson—1S01 to 1S09—8 years. 

4. James Madison—1809 to 1817—8 years. 

5. James Monroe—1817 to 1825—8 years. 

6. John Quincy Adams—1825 to 1829—4 years. 

7. Andrew Jackson—1S29 to 1837—8 years. 

S. Martin Van Buren—1837 1841—4 years. 

9. William Henry Harrison—1841—1 month. Dying, he was 
succeeded by the then Vice-President. 

10. John Tyler—1841 to 1845—3 years and 11 months. 

11. James K. Polk—1845 to 1S49 —4 years. 

12. Zachary Taylor—1849 to 1850—1 year and 4 months. Dy¬ 
ing, he was succeeded by the then Vice-President. 

13. Millard Fillmore—1850 to 1853—2 years and 8 months. 

14. Franklin Pierce—1853 to 1857—4 years. 

15. James Buchanan—1857 to 1861—4 years. 

16. Abraham Lincoln—1861 to April 14, 1865—4 years and 1 



AND THE WISE. 


3 23 


month. Being assassinated, he was succeeded by the then Vice- 
President. 

17* Andrew Johnson—1S65 to ^69—3 years and 11 months, 
ib. Ulysses S. Grant —1869 to 1877—8 years. 
l 9 - Rutherford B. Hayes—1877 to 1881—4. years. 

20. James A. Garfield—18S1 to July 2, 1881—4. months. Being 
assassinated, he was succeeded by the then Vice-President. 

21. Chester A. Arthur—Twenty-first President of the United 
States. 


SALARIES OP SOME 


OFFICERS . 


The President, $50,000; Cabinet, head of each department, 
$S,ooo; President’s Private Secretary, $3,250; Vice-President, $8,000; 
United States Senators, $5,000 each, with mileage, 20 cents per mile, 
stationery, $125; franking privilege and expenses on committees; 
Speaker of the House of Representatives, $8,000; each .Representa¬ 
tive, $5,000; United States Treasurer, $6,000; Chief-Justice of the 
United States Supreme Court, $10,500; eight Associate-Justices, each, 
$10,000. The highest salary paid to the Governor of a State is 
$10,000, which amount is received by the Governors of New York 
and Pennsylvania only; Michigan, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, 
and Vermont, each pays its Governor but $1,000 salary. 




2£«rit» ,—» y — 7 

—-7 £■ — - I — 

—» * - 


TIMIDITY OF ORATORS. 

t 

A writer of the Fortnightly Review asks whether artists, and 
especially orators, are peculiarly liable to the sensation of pain and to 
fear. He thinks that they are, and attributes it to an unusually sensi¬ 
tive organization. Peel is believed to have owed his death to being 
unable to bear an operation which a less sensitive man might have 
borne. An eminent operator described Bishop Wilberforce as a 
“bundle of nerves,” and as the most sensitive patient he had ever 
known. Orators, as a rule, show a painful anxiety about their own 
speeches, and toilsome uneasiness seems a condition of their success. 
A junior counsel once congratulated Sir William Follet on his perfect 














334 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


composure in prospect of a great case. Sir William merely asked his 
friend to feel his hand, which was wet with anxiety. The late Lord 
Derby said that his principal speeches cost him two sleepless nights— 
one in which he was thinking what to say, the other in which he was 
lamenting what he might have said .better. Cicero, according to 
Plutarch, “ not only wanted courage in arms, but in his speaking also; 
he began timidly, and in many cases, he scarcely left off trembling 
and shaking even when he got thoroughly into the current and sub¬ 
stance of his speech.” 







POWER AND INFLUENCE OF THE ORATOR . 

When in 1761, James Otis, in a Boston popular assembly, denounced 
the British Writs of Assistance, his hearers were hurried away resist- 
lessly, on the torrent of his impetuous speech. When he had con¬ 
cluded, every man, we are told, of the vast assembly, went away 
resolved to take up arms against the illegality. When Patrick Henry 
pleaded the tobacco case “against the parsons,” in 175S, it is said that 
the people might have been seen in every part of the house, on the 
benches, in the aisles, and in the windows, hushed in death-like still¬ 
ness, and bending eagerly forward to catch the magic tones of the 
speaker. The jury were so bewildered as to lose sight of the legis¬ 
lative enactments on which the plaintiffs relied; the court lost the 
equipoise of its judgment, and refused a new trial; and the people, 
who could scarcely keep their hands off their champion after he had 
closed his harangue, no sooner saw that he was victorious, than they 
seized him at the bar, and, in spite of his own efforts, and the con¬ 
tinued cry of “ Order!” from the sheriff and the court, bore him out 
of the court-house, and, raising him on their shoulders, carried him 
about the yard, in a kind of electioneering triumph. When the same 
great orator concluded his well-known speech in March, 1775, in 
behalf of American independence, “ no murmur of applause followed,” 
says his biographer; “ the effect was too deep. After the trance of a 
moment, several members of the assembly started from their seats. 
The cry, 7 o arms ! seemed to quiver on every lip, and glance from 
every eye.”— Orators and Oratory. 







AND fUHE WISE. 


32S 






1 ^-. 


STORY of remarkable self-controi is told by the London 
Builder , of a slater named M. A. Karis, a Belgian. This 
man was engaged with a companion in fixing a lightning 
conductor on the summit of a church steeple at Ville-Sur- 
Ourthe, Belgium. Karis was supporting the other man upon 
his shoulders, and this workman accidentally spilt some molten lead 
upon the other’s fore-arm. The pain, of course, was intense, but 
knowing that the slightest movement might precipitate his com¬ 
panion into the street, Karis remained motionless while it burned its 
way into the flesh. The men were at a height of seventy feet from 
the ground. 


PHALARIS ' BULL . 

Perillus, an Athenian, cast a brazen bull for Phalaris, the tyrant 
of Sicily, which was constructed so that when it was heated and 
offenders put into it, their cries seemed not like those of human 
beings, but like the roaring of a bull. When he went to Phalaris, 
in the hope of being recompensed for so admirable a refinement 
of cruelty, the tyrant at once ordered him to be thrown into the bull, 
that he might show the excellence of his own invention. 

—— 

A THRILLING INCIDENT 

The following incident occurred during a general review of the 
Austrian cavalry a few months ago: Not far from where 30,000 
cavalry were in line, a little child,—a girl of not more than foui yeais 
—standing in the front row of spectators, either from fright, or some 
other cause, rushed out into the open field just as a squadron of hus- 















326 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


sars came sweeping around from the main body. They made the 
detour for the purpose of saluting the Empress, whose carriage was 
drawn up in that part of the parade ground. Down came the flying 
squadron, charging at a mad gallop,—down directly upon the child. 
The mother was paralyzed, as were others, for there could be no res¬ 
cue from the line of spectators. The Empress uttered a cry of hor¬ 
ror, for the child’s destruction seemed inevitable,- —and such terrible 
destruction—the trampling to death by a thousand iron hoofs. Directly 
under the feet of the horse was the little one—another instant must 
seal her doom—when a stalwart hussar, who was in the front line, 
without slackening his speed or loosening his hold, threw himself 
over by the side of his horse’s neck, seized and lifted the child, and 
placed it with safety upon his saddle-bow, and this he did without 
changing his pace, or breaking the correct alignment of the squadron. 
Ten thousand voices hailed with rapturous applause the gallant deed, 
and other thousands applauded when they knew. Two women there 
were who could only sob forth their gratitude in broken accents,—the 
mother and the Empress. A proud and happy moment it must have 
been to the hussar when his Emperor, taking from his own breast 
the richly-enameled cross of the order of Maria Theresa, hung it upon 
the breast of his brave and gallant trooper.— Selected. 


A LECTURE ROT IN THE STAR COURSE . 

Another thing the world and the church have not observed; that 
is, Christ’s pathetic credentials: A scar in the right palm, a scar in 
the left palm, a scar amid the ribs—scars, scars. That is the way 
they knew Him. When I see Christ’s resurrected body having scars, 
it makes me think that our remodeled and resurrected bodies will 
have scars. Why, before we get out of this world some of us will 
be covered with scars. Heaven will not be a bay into which float 
summer yachts after a pleasuring, with the gay bunting, and with the 
embroidered sails as fair as when they were first unfurled. Heaven 
will be more like a navy yard, where men-of-war come in from Tra¬ 
falgar and Lepanto, men-of-war with masts twisted by a cyclone; 
men-of-war struck on all sides by seventy-four pounders; men-of-war 




AND f?HE WISE. 


3^7 

with decks scorched of the shell. Old Constitutions, old Constella¬ 
tions, floating in, discharged from service, to rest forever. You and 
I will be credentialed, and will recognize each other by scars. Do 
you think them a disfigurement ? I tell you, glorious thought, they are 
to be the means of heavenly recognition.— Rev. T. Re Witt Tcilmage. 

HOBSON'S CHOICE. 

Thomas Hobson was a carrier at Cambridge, England, and own¬ 
ing horses, he used to let them to students. He was a very humane 
man, and made a rule that every horse should have a regular time in 
which to rest, and no matter how much a student might want to hire 
a particular horse, he couldn’t get him if it were his time.to rest. So 
it was “ Hobson’s choice. Take what you can get, or go without.” 




A YELLOW FEVER STORY\ 

SPHERE was a curious incident in the yellow-fever panic at 
Savannah, which has not attracted as much attention as it 
deserves. The hero of the mournful episode was a young 
drug clerk, and we venture to say that he was not the sort 
of a young fellow that puts up prussic acid for paregoric, and sends 
fretting babies to an eternal sleep with a dose of laudanum instead of 
soothing syrup. When the fever broke out in Savannah, the whole 
force in the drug store where he was at work deserted the post of 
danger, and left the city. His friends who lived in Augusta sent 
word to him to come home, but he refused, and remained on duty 
until the proprietor of the store ordered him to close it. He then 
went to another drug shop in Savannah, and worked laboriously as 
prescription clerk. He was kept so busily engaged that he had little 
time for his meals, no chance to change his clothes, and no opportu- 
nitv for rest or amusement. His employer took the fever and died, 
although the boy nursed him faithfully. The cook took it, and he 
attended to her also, and she recovered. A young comrade was then 
taken ill, and the steadfast druggist nursed him and performed his 
















328 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


duties in the store night and day. His friend regained his health 
slowly, and then the clerk was himself seized with the fever, but as 
he was strong and cheerful, he sent word to his relatives that he had 
no fears. It was then his companion’s turn to show the kind of stuff 
of which he was made; and the material turned out to be pure gold. 
He nursed his friend from day to day, keeping up constant communi¬ 
cation with his home by telegraph, as long as the telegraph messen¬ 
gers could be persuaded to venture into the infected part of the town. 
H is last dispatches were: “ I will stick to him to the last,” and “ I 
shall not sleep to-night.” Both of the young men died that evening. 
We are not much addicted to what is known in the newspaper pro¬ 
fession as gush, and have no desire to turn a common-place matter 
into heroism by a few gorgeous phrases glittering in the light of an 
overheated imagination; but we are inclined to think that some honor 
is due to the memory of these two young fellows, and should be 
frankly paid.— JV. T. Tribune. 



A remarkable and highly characteristic letter of Lincoln’s was one 
which he wrote to General Hooker, just after the latter had taken 
command of the Army of the Potomac. It was quite long, occupy¬ 
ing nearly four pages of large letter paper, and written in the Presi¬ 
dent’s own hand. In this letter the good Lincoln advised Hooker, 
in the most kindly, even affectionate manner, not in respect of mili¬ 
tary affairs, but as to his personal conduct, alluding to certain traits, 
particularly of character, which the President gently intimated, be¬ 
came faults when made too prominent. It was just such a letter of 
loving counsel as a father might write to a son—a letter forever to 
be prized by its recipient. Some weeks after this was written, I 
accompanied the President to the Army of the Potomac, then lving 
at Falmouth. We were entertained at Hooker’s headquarters. One 
night, Hooker and I being alone in the hut, the General standing with 
his back to the fire-place, alert, handsome, full of courage and con¬ 
fidence, said laughingly: “ B-, the President says you know about 





AND THE WISE. 


329 


that letter he wrote me on taking command.” I acknowledged that 
the President had read it to me. The General seemed to think that 
the advice was well meant but unnecessary. Then he added, with 
that charming assurance that became him so well: “After I have 
been to Richmond, I am going to have that letter printed.” It is a 
good letter; it is a pity that it never was printed.— Scribner's 
Monthly. 



There are few that have not heard this illustration many times in 
sermons, poems, etc. Who or what was Phoenix? It is needless to 
say the story belongs to an age of fables. The story goes that the 
Phoenix was a bird about the size of an eagle, with plumage of mar¬ 
velous beauty, a coxcomb under its neck, and a crest upon its head. 
Five hundred years it lived; then the priest of the temple kindled a 
fire of spices, in which the bird, weary of life, alighted and was con¬ 
sumed. On the second day after a small worm appeared among the 
ashes, and from this, on the third day, the Phoenix rose again, more 
beautiful than ever,—a symbol of the resurrection of the human body. 
All this was at Heliopolis, Egypt. Now you have the whole story. 


Stonewall Jackson’s last words: “ Let us cross over the river, and 
rest under the shade of the trees.” 

On the famous monument of Luther at Worms, are carved these 
words, which were the declaration of Luther at the famous diet: 
“ Here I stand; I cannot do otherwise. God help me. Amen.” 

A country hardware merchant undertook to order from the city 
for his neighbor, the tailor, two useful implements. “ Send me two 
tailor’s geese,” he wrote. That, he thought, was plainly wrong, and 
he tore up the order. “ Send me two gooses for a tailor,” was his 
next formula. But after the letter was sealed and stamped, his mind 
misgave him, and he tore it open again. The third time he got it 
right beyond a doubt. <( Send me one tailor’s goose. \ ours, etc., 
John Doe. P. S.—Send me another just like it.” 


3S0 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


Cceur de Lion. —A surname given to Richard I., of England, on 
account of his dauntless courage, about A. D. 1192. 

Emerald Isle. —A name sometimes given to Ireland, on account 
o the peculiar bright green look of the surface of the country. 

The Conqueror. —A title given to William, Duke of Normandy, 
who, by the battle of Hastings, in 1066, became the sovereign of 
England. 

Cophetua. —An imaginary African king, of whom the legendary 
ballads told that he fell in love with the daughter of a beggar, and 
married her. 

The Eternal City. —A popular and very ancient designation of 
Rome, which was fabled to have been built under the favor and 
immediate direction of the gods. 

Columbia. —A name often given to the New World from a feel¬ 
ing of poetic justice to its discoverer. The application of the term is 
usually restricted to the United States. 

Breeches Bibles. —A name given to editions of the so-called Gene¬ 
van Bible, first printed at Geneva, by Rowland Hall, 1560, in 4to, 
from the peculiar rendering of Gen. iii. 7. 

Attic Bee. —An epithet conferred by the ancients upon Sophocles, 
(495-406 B. C.), the tragic poet of Athens, on account of the unriv¬ 
aled beauty and sweetness of his productions. 

Cradle of Liberty —A popular name given to Faneuil Hall, a 
large public edifice in Boston, Mass., celebrated as being the place 
where the orators of the Revolution roused the people to resistance 
to British oppression. 

City of the Violet Crown. —An epithet of Athens. The origin 
of the name is found in Pindar. It possibly has reference to the situa¬ 
tion of Athens in the central plain of Attica, surrounded by hills of 


AND THE WISE. 


S31 

lofty mountains on every side but the south,—where it is open to the 
sea — an d to the gorgeous, rosy and purple tints in which they are 
bathed by rising and setting sun. 

Black Monday. —A memorable Easter Monday in 1351, very 
dark and misty. A great deal of hail fell, and the cold was so extreme 
that many died from its effects. The name afterward came to be 
applied to the Monday after Easter of each year. 

Beatrice. —The Christian name of a young Florentine lady of the 
illustrious family of Portinari, for whom the poet Dante conceived a 
strong but purely platonic affection, and whom he represents, in the 
“ Divina Commedia,” as his guide through Paradise. 

Bridge of Sighs. —The name popularly given to the covered 
passage-way which connects the Doge’s palace, in Venice, with the 
state prisons, from the circumstance that the condemned jDrisoners 
were transported over this bridge, from the hall of judgment to the 
place of execution. 

Bloody Mary. —A name commonly given to Mary, a Roman Cath¬ 
olic Queen of England, whose reign is distinguished for the sanguin¬ 
ary persecutions of the adherents of the Church of England, no fewer 
than 200 persons having perished at the stake within the space of four 
years, for their attachment to the reformed doctrines. 

Bride of the Sea. —A poetical name of Venice, having its origin 
in the ancient ceremony of the espousal of the Adriatic, during which 
the Doge, in the presence of the courtiers, and amid circumstances of 
great splendor, threw a ring into the sea, uttering the words, “ De - 
sponsamus te , mare , in signum veri perpetuique dominii .” (We 
wed thee, O sea! in sign of a true and perpetual dominion.) 

City of Magnificent Distances. —A popular designation given to 
the city of Washington, the capital of the United States, which is laid 
out on a very large scale, being intended to cover a space four and a 
half miles long, and two miles and a half broad, or eleven square 
miles. The entire site is traversed by two sets of streets from 70 to 


33^ 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


ioo feet wide, at right angles to one another, the whole again inter¬ 
sected obliquely by fifteen avenues from 130 to 160 feet wide. 

The Dark Day. —May 19, 1780, so called, on account of a remark¬ 
able darkness on that day, extending over all New England. In some 
places, persons could not see to read common print in the open air for 
several hours together. Birds sang their evening song, disappeared, 
and became silent; fowls went to roost; cattle sought the barnyard, 
and candles were lighted in the houses. The obscuration began 
about 10 o’clock in the morning, and continued till the middle of the 
next night, with but difference of degree and duration in different 
places. For several days previous, the wind had been variable, but 
chiefly from the southwest and the northeast. The true cause of this 
remarkable phenomenon is not known. 

Black Hole of Calcutta. —A name commonly given to a certain 
small and close dungeon in Fort William, Calcutta, the scene of one 
of the most tragic events in the history of British India. On the cap¬ 
ture of Calcutta, by Surajah Dowlah, June 20, 1756, the British gar¬ 
rison, consisting of 146 men, being made prisoners, were locked up 
at night in this room, only eighteen feet square, and poorly ventilated, 
never having been intended to hold more than two or three prisoners at 
a time. In the morning, of the 146 men who were imprisoned, only 
twenty-three were found alive. In the “Annual Register ” for 175S, is 
is a narrative of the sufferings of those imprisoned, written by Mr. Hol- 
well, one of the number. The Black Hole is now used as a warehouse. 

Blue Laws. —A name derisively given to the quaint regulations 
of the early government of New Haven plantation, when the public 
authorities kept a sharp watch over the deportment of the people of 
the colony, and punished all breaches of good manners and good 
morals, often with ludicrous formality. Some account of these laws 
is given in a small work published in 1825 (Hartford, by Silas Andrus), 
entitled “ The Code of 1650, Being a Compilation of the Earliest Laws 
and Orders of the General Court of Connecticut,” etc. The ancient 
records of the New Haven colony bear witness to the stern and som¬ 
ber religious spirit of the first settlers. The chapter “ Capital Laws,” 
in the code of 1650, is almost verbally copied from the Mosaic law. 




^ssw LET t 

INCLUDING J<j 


THE KEIGXIJVS BEHUIIEJS 0E THE JSEH, 


AND 


WOJMDE^p IjM THE £TARRY HEAVEjM£. 


IlSlISSi 













































































































































































































— 


^3 


I* SOME MOST NOTABLE OAVES. 







jAMMOTH CAVE. —This is the largest known cave in the 
world. It is in Edmonson Co., Ky., on the left bank of 

Green River. It consists of a series of caverns, and has 

been explored to a distance of ten miles. In this cavern 
is Echo River, which is crossed by a boat. Plenty of fish are found 
in the river, but the creatures are without eyes, there being not 
the least gleam of light within the cave, and hence no need of eyes. 

A voyage of a few hundred yards on Echo River, which winds and 

branches through the gloomy expanse, takes the visitor into a fairy 
land of labyrinths, flashing in the light of the torches, and with 
stalactites and stalagmites of every conceivable shape. Throughout 
its whole length the cave seems a mystery of buiied palaces and 
magic haunts, not equaled in any other portion of the globe. Among 
other wonderful features are the Deserted Chambers, containing 
many deep and dangerous pits, the more frightful lor the chaos of 
darkness that enwraps them; also the Side-saddle Pit, and the Coveied 
Pit, the latter 15 fe£t in diameter, and nearly covered by a thin plate 
of rock. By putting the ear to the edge, the sound of falling water is 
heard in the fathomless depths below. Mammoth Dome is one of the 
special wonders of the place. The roof is 300 feet high. Solitaiy 
Cave is an awfully grand and silent chamber. Bottomless Pit and the 
River Lethe are also important features. All through the cave are 
found groups of curious and interesting figures, sculptured by the action 
of the water among the rocks in past infinite ages. The tempeiatuie 
of the cave is always 59 degrees F., and the place has been strongly 
recommended for some diseases. A few years ago a paitv of con¬ 
sumptives took up their abode within the cave. In a short time a 
r [335] 



















































336 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


portion of them died, and the rest lived only a few days after coming 
out. From dwelling in darkness so long, it is said that the puoils of 
their eyes had expanded until the iris had become invisible. 

LURAY CAVERNS. —These marvelous subterranean caverns in 
Virginia bear numerous evidences of having been frequented by a pre¬ 
historic race; but whether they were Norsemen or Red Men, we have 
no sufficient means for determining, although many bones, and recently 
one whole skeleton of a male person, which may eventually throw 
some light upon the subject, have been discovered. The interior of 
many of the chambers are lined with smoke, and large patches of the 
stalagmites have been removed from the floor to make it smooth and 
more easily used. But everything indicates that a long, long period 
of time—perhaps many hundreds of years—have elapsed since voices 
resounded through those silent halls. The cave abounds in singular 
and interesting objects, deposited from the dripping waters. One 
stalactite, called the Empress Column, is a pure white mass of alabas¬ 
ter, 70 feet high, reaching to the roof. Another pendant formation, 
nearly equal to the Empress Column in length, vibrates for a moment 
on being struck, and one of the rooms, termed the Cathedral, has a 
series of 20 slender columns, which sound part of a scale on being 
struck successively. This is called the organ. 

FINGAL’S CAVE. —Who does not remember to have seen crude 
pictures of it in the old school geographies? and still the interest with 
which it has always been regarded, continues unbroken. This famous 
natural grotto is on the Island of StafFa, on the southwest coast of 
Scotland. It is a cave of the sea. The formation consists of lofty 
basaltic columns, which look as if they might have been chiseled by 
the hand of man, in countless ages of patient toil, and fashioned and 
placed as here we see them. The cave extends inward from the shore 
line about 225 feet, and in low water is lighted from without through¬ 
out its whole length. At the mouth it has a breadth of 42 feet, which 
diminishes to 22 feet at the extreme end. The entrance describes an 
almost perfect Gothic arch, and the columns which form the sides are 
of enormous size. Between the numberless pillars are stalactites of 
wonderful beauty. 

A MAGNETIC CAVE. —A California correspondent thus speaks 


rPTJTTT* T\/rm TTrTl\r T7ITXT 
















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































C- i ‘ " . •' . - * • 1 . 
























. 







































■ 













■9 




. 














■ 












AND THE WISE. 


33Z 


of the cave which has recently been discovered in that State, the walls 
of which contain loadstones: 

As we entered the chamber, which is lined with a brownish black 
ore, all the party were more or less affected in a peculiar way, which 
some described as a chill along the spinal column, but which seemed 
to me more like the “ aura ” one feels when he brings his face into 
close proximity to an electric machine in vigorous action. There was 
—at least so it seemed to me—a slight odor of ozone in the air, which, 
considering the current theory of the close connection of magnetism 
with electricity, might have been expected. In walking along the 
slippery floor of the cavern I struck with my foot a small oblong 
rock in such a way as completely to overturn it, bringing its south 
pole where its north had been in contact with the north pole of 
another. It was immediately repelled—rebounded—to a distance of 
several feet, with considerable force, but it must be remembered that 
the floor was slippery with ooze, which had all the effect of oil. One 
of the party had taken a gun into the cave, which, of course, he carried 
with its muzzle toward the floor. Its ramrod was withdrawn by the 
magnetic force, and, to the surprise of us all, stood upright on the 
ground. When struck on one side it would fall over to the other, but 
instantly snap back; but it was easily taken up and replaced in position. 
The watches of all the party were found, on emerging from the cave, 
to have stopped while in it. A knife tossed to the roof remained fixed 
there. An experiment which I afterward wished I had tried would 
have been to feel the pulses of the party to see what effect, if any, the 
peculiarity of the situation had on the human body. 

THE LARGEST CAVERN IN THE WORLD.— At the Hart¬ 
ford meeting of the American Association for the Advancement of 

o 

Science, Mr. Porter C. Bliss, late Secretary of the Legation in Mexico, 
gave a description of the Cave of Cacahuamilpa, which, according to 
his statement, is the largest cavern in the world. It includes a series 
of broad and lofty halls, with lateral passages, extending upon the same 
level an immense distance into the heart of a lofty range of mount¬ 
ains. The halls abound in colossal stalactites and stalagmites, of every 
conceivable and grotesque and fanciful form. At a depth of two 01 
three hundred feet beneath the cave, the mountain is penetrated by two 
rivers of considerable size, which, at their entiance, aie about half a 
22 


338 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


mile apart, and, after flowing a distance by direct measurement, of five 
miles, emerge from the mountain in close proximity, and thence 
united form one of the chief affluents of the Mexicola. The chan¬ 
nels in the solid rock through which these rivers emerge are said by 
Mr. Bliss to be large enough to admit the Hartford State House. 
Fragments of timber and debris are often floated through the mount¬ 
ain, but these subterranean river beds have never been explored. 
Myriads of bats and nocturnal birds seek shelter or make their abode 
in the mouth of the cave. 

A BREATHING CAVE. —In the range of mountains in Western 
North Carolina, known as the “Fox Range,” a most singular phe¬ 
nomenon exists. It is a “breathing cave.” In the summer months 
a current of air comes from it so strongly that a person can’t walk 
against it, while in winter the suction is just as great. The cool air 
from the mountain in the summer is felt for miles, in a direct line from 
the mouth of the cave. At times a most unpleasant odor is emitted 
upon the current from dead carcasses of animals sucked in and killed 
by the violence. The loss of cattle and stock in that section in winter 
is accounted for in this way: They range too near the mouth of the 
cave, and the current carries them in. At times, when the change 
from inhalation to exhalation begins, the air is filled with various hairs 
of animals; not infrequently bones and whole carcasses are found 
miles from the place. The air has been known to change materially 
in temperature during exhalation from quite cool to unpleasantly hot, 
withering vegetables within reach, and accompanied by a terrible 
roaring, gurgling sound, as a pot boiling. It is unaccounted for by 
scientific men who have examined it, though no exploration can take 
place. It is feared by many that a volcanic eruption may break forth 
there some time. Such things have occurred in places as little unex¬ 
pected. 

■ — ■0»0<fro«-0- 


If a well-made man be extended on the ground, his arm at right 
angles with the body, a circle, making the navel its center, will just 
take in the head, the finger ends, and feet. 




AND THE WISE. 


339 


The distance from top to toe is precisely the same as that between 
the tips of the fingers when the arms are extended. 

The length of the body is just six times that of the foot; while the 
distance from the edge of the hair on the forehead to the end of the 
chin is one-tenth the length of the whole stature. 

Of the sixty-two primary elements known in nature, only eighteen 
are found in the human body, and of these, seven are metallic. Iron 
is found in the blood, phosphorus in the brain, limestone in the bile, 
lime in the bones, dust and ashes in all! Not only these eighteen 
human elements, but the whole sixty-two, of which the universe is 
made, have their essential basis in the four substances, oxygen, 
hydrogen, nitrogen, and carbon, representing the more familiar names 
of fire, water, saltpeter, and charcoal; and such is man, the lord of 
earth! a spark of fire, a drop of water, a grain of gunpowder, an 
atom of charcoal.— Hall's Journal of Health. 


Our Yellowstone National Park and 

its Wonders. 

% p?|HE Park is in the northwestern corner of Wyoming Terri- 
an< ^ covers a surface of 65 miles north and south by 55 
e? ^p> miles wide, of evident volcanic origin, and containing more 
1 natural curiosities than an equal area in any other part of the 

world, while within it are the sources of the greatest rivers of North 
America, the Yellowstone, Gardiner, and Madison, which form 
the Missouri, seeking the Atlantic; the Snake River, one of the 
upper waters of the Columbia, of Oregon, and the Green River, 
a branch of the Colorado, flowing into the Gulf of California. All 
of this region has at least 6,000 feet elevation above the sea, 
while some of the peaks around it rise nearly 12,000 feet, and 
are covered with snow. Its Yellowstone Lake is the most ele¬ 
vated sheet of water of its size in the world, at JfSS feet alti¬ 
tude, and covering 300 square miles surface. Out of this pretty 
lake flows the Yellowstone River, through the Grand Canyon whose 
almost perpendicular sides, not over 300 to 500 yards apart, rise 1,000 














340 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


feet, and are brilliantly colored; and the gorge, which is so steep that 
no one can descend into it, continues for twenty miles. You creep to 
the edge and look down this extraordinary place into which the river 
tumbles over a beautiful fall 360 feet high. Then there are hot springs 
and geysers of vast extent and limitless volume of power, surpassing 
anything elsewhere known. At least 5,000 of these hot springs have 
been found, depositing either lime or silica, and making the most 
beautiful colors and ornamentation in their deposits; while at least 
fifty of the geysers throw water columns 50 to 200 feet. The most 
of these geysers are coy and bashful, not exploding and spouting ex¬ 
cepting at irregular intervals, and you may watch them for days 
together without the waters being turned on, but the favorite and one 
of the most beautiful is “ Old Faithful,” sending up its enormous 
column of water, from which dense clouds of steam are blown at 
regular intervals of about sixtv-four minutes. Then there are the 
“paint pots” and the “ wash-tubs,” the former being “ mud geysers,” 
where the different colored muds mixed up with water and steam 
keep up a constant commotion, the latter making one of the most 
curious developments of this strange region. The “ wash-tubs” are 
basins hollowed out of the deposits, and each has an aperture in the 
bottom. Through this hot water comes, and in the tub you can wash 
your clothes, but great carefulness is necessary, for in a twinkling, 
without notice, all the water will run out of the bottom of the tub, 
and, if you are not quick enough to catch them, the clothes will disap¬ 
pear also. The next time the water comes in, it may bring back the 
clothes or it may not; these geysers are very fickle about it. This ex¬ 
traordinary region has been known for the past three-quarters of a 
century. About 1807 a frontiersman named Coulter came in here, 
and when he returned to civilization he told such wondrous stories 
about the doings of these hot springs, wash-tubs, and geysers, that 
the borderers gave the place the name of “ Coulter’s Hell.” Others 
visited it afterward and told similar tales, but were generally dis¬ 
believed. In 1869 a party of surveyors went through, but the first 
scientific exploration was bv Professor Hayden’s corps, in 1871, his 
report leading Congress the next year to pass the law by which it 
was made a National Park and set aside as a pleasure ground for the 
people. J. C. 


AND THE WISE. 


341 


®|MHESE giants of the forest are found only along the western 
^ jk flank of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, within a distance of 
hP about two hundred miles. To the northward they are found 
( 5 /fvD in groups only. The trees in most of these groups have been 
counted. Those ot the Calaveras group number twelve or thirteen 
hundred; in the Tuolumne and Merced groups there are less than one 
hundred; in the well-known Mariposa grove, about six hundred; and 
in the North King’s River grove, less than half as many; but the Fresno 
group, the largest congregation of the north, occupies an area ot three 
or four square miles. In addition to these we have the Dinky grove; 
but farther southward the trees stretch majestically across the broad 
rugged basin of the Keweah and Tide in noble forests, a distance of 
nearly seventy miles, the continuity of this magnificent belt being 
broken only by deep, sheer-walled canyons. These sequoia gigantea 
are the monarchs of monarchs—the master existence of these un¬ 
rivaled forests. The average stature attained by the big tree under 
favorable conditions is perhaps about 275 feet, with a diameter of 
20 feet. Few full-grown specimens fall much short of this, while 
many are 2^5 feet in diameter, and nearly 300 feet high. Fortunate 
trees, so situated as to have escaped the destructive action of fire, 
which has ever been the formidable enemy of the sequoias, are oc¬ 
casionally found measuring 30 feet in diameter, and very rarely one 
that is much larger. Yet so exquisitely harmonious are even the very 
mightiest of these monarchs, in all their proportions and circumstances, 
that never is anything overgrown or huge-looking about them, and 
the first exclamation, on coming upon a group for the first time, is 
usually, “ See what beautiful trees!” Their real, godlike grandeur 
in the meantime is invisible; but to the loving eye it will be mani¬ 
fested sooner or later, stealing slowly on the senses like the grandeur 
of Niagara, or of some lofty Yosemite dome. The most notable 
tree in the well-known Mariposa grove is the Grisly Giant, some 30 
feet in diameter, growing on the top of a stony ridge. The tree, a 
section of which was shown at the Centennial, was 25 feet in diame¬ 
ter at the base. The age, as counted by three different persons, is from 








342 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


2,125 to 2,317 years, the fineness of the annual wood rings making ac¬ 
curate count difficult. Some of the trees are undoubtedly much older. 
A specimen observed by me in the New King’s River Forest is probably 
over 4,000 years old. It measured nearly 40 feet in diameter inside 
the bark. Many of these mighty monarchs are known to the world 
at large by familiar names, such as “ General Grant,” “ The Three 
Graces,” “ The Faithful Couple,” etc. Through the erect trunk of 
one dead giant a passage has been cleft, through which the great 
stage coach thunders on its way. The California Indians have a say¬ 
ing that other trees grow, but the Great Spirit created the sequoias 
out of hand. It is the savage way of calling them miracles. And 
they are; for how a tree from twenty-five to thirty stories high, and 
with room, if hollowed, to shelter three hundred guests, and leave 
stabling quarters on the ground floor for a dozen horses, could have 
pumped from the earth and inspired from the air material enough to 
build itself along without waiting, is incomprehensible.— Condensed 
from John Muir and B . B. Taylor . 



Probably the oldest timber in the world which has been subjected 
to the use of man, is that which is found in the ancient temple of 
Egypt. It is found in connection with stone work, which is known 
to be at least four thousand years old. This wood, and the only wood 
used in the construction of the temple, is in the form of ties, holding 
the end of one stone to another in its upper surface. When two 
blocks were laid in place, then it appears that an excavation about an 
inch deep was made into each block, into which an hour-glass shaped 
tie was driven. It is, therefore, very difficult to force any stone from 
its position. The ties appear to have been the tamarisk, or shittim 
wood, of which the ark was constructed, a sacred tree in ancient 
Egypt, and now very rarely found in the Valley of the Nile. Those 
dove-tailed ties are just as sound now as on the day of their insertion. 
Although fuel is extremely scarce in that country, these bits of wood 
are not large enough to make it an object with Arabs to heave off 









AND THE WISE. 


343 


layer after layer of stone for so small a prize. Had they been of 
bronze, half the old temples would have been destroyed long ago, so 
precious would they have been for various purposes. 

-o>~ 



Dr. G. Lincecum gives the following interesting report of the 
curious little balloon-spider and its work: 

“ I once observed,” says the writer, “ one of these spiders at work 
in the upper corner of an open outside door-shutter. She was spin¬ 
ning gossamer, of which she was forming a balloon, and clinging to 
her thorax was a little cluster of minute young spiders. She finished 
up the body of the balloon, threw out the long bow-lines, which were 
flapping and fluttering in the now gently-increasing breeze. Several 
minutes before she got all ready for the ascension, she seemed to be 
fixing the bottom, and widening her hammock-shaped balloon; and 
now, the breeze being suitable, she moved to the cable in the stern, 
severed it, and her craft bounded upward, and, soaring northward, 
was soon beyond the scope of observation .”—Atlantic Monthly. 





The queerest of trees must be the baobab, or monkey bread. It 
grows to the height of forty feet, “ but its girth is entirely out of pro¬ 
portion to its height, some trees being thirty feet in diameter. An 
old baobab in Africa is, then, more like a forest than a single tree. 
Their a^e is incalculable.” Humboldt considers them as “the oldest 
livino- organic monuments of our planet.” Some trees are believed 
to be 5,000 years old. You can cut a good sized room into the trunk 
of a baobab, with comfortable accommodations for thirty men, and the 
tree lives on and flourishes. It produces fiuit about a foot long, which 
is edible. As an example of slow growth in England, a baobab at 
Kew, though more than eighty years old, has only attained a height 











THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


of four and a half feet. A kindred species of' the African baobab 
grows in Australia. They have been measured, being thirty feet high, 
with a girth of eighty-five feet. 



FLA MTS THAT BAT ANIMALS ., 


iUPtVEN the most knowing ones among scientists confess they 

V« r'onnnf rlvcixxr Imp xxrf^Art LI nnrl fhp flnilTIfll 


cannot draw the line between the vegetable and the animal 
kingdom. Sponges, corals, and many other wonders of the 
sea, seem to bestride that line, one foot on either side, as we 
might say. So, also, do the insect-eating plants. It is proven 
beyond question that paralysis of a plant can be produced by external 
injury, showing the existence of a nervous system. 

There are some seven or eight well-defined varieties of plants that 
exist largely on captured prey. Such are the various kinds of pitcher 
plants, which stand up in queenly fashion—genuine pitchers, with a 
little lid at the top. Now, here comes a wandering bee, browsing 
along with as much noise as a brass band. Will he be wise enough 
to avoid his danger? We shall see. He alights on the very brim of 
the pitcher. It is covered with the richest honey. Farther and 
farther he descends. He might as well bid the world good-night, for 
down comes the lid with a bang (we might almost say). He is a 
goner. Smothered and blinded, sooner or later he falls to the bottom, 
where he is drowned in a puddle of water—not water, but the gastric 
juice of the animal’s (!) stomach, which digests him precisely as a 
man’s stomach digests beefsteak. He will be watched for in vain at 
the home hive. Some pitcher plants are wonders of plant arch¬ 
itecture. Their tops grow over, forming a regular hood, with the 
entrance beneath; hut the bees always find it, to their sorrow. 

Then there is the Venus fly-trap. It is little, but just the same 
shape as if you should put your two open palms side by side. On 
the surface is honey, and sharp needles sticking up. A fly is attracted 
by the honey, and alights. Instantly the two palms close as one. The 
fly is between and the needles pierce him through and through. He is 








AND fPHR WISE. 




another goner. Then the plant stays closed until everything good in 
the fl} is eaten up—many days, perhaps. Our little fly-trap knows its 
business very well, and is not to be fooled. Put a little piece of beef¬ 
steak on the open disks; they close at once. Now try a little piece of 
wood or earth. This is not food, and the Venus knows it. There is 
no motion. Strange, isn’t it? 




-si)(aZ 

<3 



A PETRIFIED FOREST. 

f f? R QM Mr. David Rideout, who was engaged in preparing 
JT||| a section of a petrified tree for the Centennial exhibition, the 
Winnemucca (Nevada) “ Star ” learns the following relating 
to the petrified forest in the desert of Northwestern Humboldt: 

“ On the plain, about thirty miles from the Blackrock range of 
mountains, stands one of the greatest natural curiosities ever discovered 
in Nevada. It is a petrified forest, in which the stumps of many of 
the trees, now changed into solid rock, are still standing. There are 
no living trees or vegetation of any kind, other than stunted sage 
brush, in the vicinity. Some of these ancient giants of the forest, 
which flourished, perhaps, thousands of years ago, when the climate 
of Nevada was undoubtedly more favorable for the growth of lux¬ 
urious vegetation than at present, rival in size the big trees of Cali¬ 
fornia. Stumps, transformed into solid rock, stand in an upright posi¬ 
tion, with their roots embedded in the soil, as when growing, that 
measure from fifteen to twenty-six feet in circumference, and the 
ground in the vicinity is strewn with the trunks and limbs, which 
retain their natural shape and size. Mr. Rideout, determining to 
secure a section of one of these trees for the Centennial exhibition, 
with two other men, spent twelve days in cutting it from the stump. 
This was accomplished by drilling all around the tree and separating 
it with wedges. The specimen is three feet high, and eighteen teet in 
circumference, and its estimated weight is three tons.” 


Gardeners in Japan display astonishing art. The plum, which is a 
great favorite, is so trained and cultivated that the blossoms arc as big 
as those of dahlias. They have gradually succeeded in dwarfing the 









346 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


fig, plum, and cherry trees, and the vine to a stature so diminuative as 
scarcely to be credited by a European, and yet those dwarf trees are 
covered with blossoms and leaves. May Ion, whose work on Japan 
was published at Amsterdam in 1830, states that the Dutch agent of 
commerce, in Naganei, was offered a snuff-box, one inch in thickness 
and three high, in which grew a fig-tree, a bamboo, and plum-tree in 
bloom. 



Todes is like frogs, but more dignity, and wen you come to think 
of it, frogs is wetter. The warts wich todes is noted for can’t be 
cured, for they is cronick, but if I couldent git wel I’de stay in the 
house. My grandfather knew a tode wich some body had tamed til 
it was folks. Wen its master wissled it would come for flies. They 
cetches ’em with there tung, wich is some like a long red werm, but 
more like litenin, only litenin haint got no gum onto it. The fli wil 
be a standin a rubbin its hine legs together and a thinkin wat a fine 
fli it is, and the tode a sittin some distance away like it was asleep. 
Wile you are seein the fli as plane as you ever see anything, all to 
once it aint there. Then the tode he looks up at you sollem, out of 
his eyes, like he said wat’s become of that fli? but you kno he et it. 




It has puzzled many people to decide why the dark wood so highly 
valued for furniture should be called “ Rosewood.” Its color certainly 
does not look much like a rose; so we must look for some other reason. 
Upon asking, we are told that when the tree is first cut, the fresh wood 
possesses a very strong, rose-like fragrance—hence the name. There 
are half-a-dozen or more kinds of rosewood trees. The varieties are 
found in South America, and in the East Indies and nei<rhborin2r 
islands. Sometimes the trees grow so large that planks four feet broad 
and ten feet in length ean be cut from them. These broad planks are 
principally used to make the tops of piano-fortes. When growing in 
the forest, the rosewood tree is remarkable for its beauty; but such is 



AND THE WISE. 


§47 


its value iu manufactures as an ornamental wood that some of the for¬ 
ests where it once grew abundantly now have scarcely a single speci¬ 
men. In Madras the government has prudently had great plantations 


of this tree set out, in order to keep up the supply. 





’"BfpjHE hen has scarcely set on her eggs twelve hours before some 
Yi ’W lineament of the head and body of the chicken appear. The 


J r J\ |l 7 

@4 heart may be seen to beat at the end of a second day; it has at 

that time somewhat of the form of a horseshoe, but no blood 


yet appears. At the end of two days two vessels of blood are to be dis¬ 


tinguished, the pulsation of which is visible; one of these is the left ven¬ 


tricle, and the other the root of the great artery. At the fiftieth hour one 
auricle of the heart appears, resembling a noose folded down upon itself. 
The beating of the heart is first observed in the auricle, and afterward 
in the ventricle. At the end of seventy hours the wings are distinguish¬ 
able ; and on the head two bubbles are seen for the brain, one for the 
bill, and two for the fore and hind parts of the head. Toward the 
end of the fourth day, the two auricles already visible draw nearer to 
the heart than before. The liver appears toward the fifth day. At 
the end of seven hours more, the lungs and the stomach become visible; 
and four hours afterward, the intestines, and loins, and the upper jaw. 
At the one hundred and forty-fourth hour, two ventricles are visible, 
and two drops of blood instead of the single one which was before. 
The seventh day the brain begins to have some consistency. At the 
one hundred and nineteenth hour of incubation the bill opens and the 
flesh appears in the breast. In four hours more the breast bone is seen. 
In six hours after this, the ribs appear, forming from the back, and the 
bill is very visible, as well as the gall-bladder. The bill becomes green 
at the end of two hundred and thirty-six hours; and if the chicken be 
taken out of its covering, it evidently moves itself. At the two hun¬ 
dred and eighty-eighth the ribs are perfect. At the three hundred and 
thirtv-first, the spleen draws near the stomach, and the lungs to the 










348 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


chest. At the end of three hundred and fifty-five hours, the bill fre¬ 
quently opens and shuts; at the end of the eighteenth day, the first cry 
of the chicken is heard. It afterward gets more strength and grows 
continually, till at length it is enabled to set itself free from its confine¬ 
ment.— Sturm'' s Reflections. 



-o» 


[cf/HE Times of India in a recent number says: “ This morning 
we were invited to inspect, in the Mazagon Dock, the 
bottom of the David Aughtersen. The ship had been 
stripped of her metal sheathing. On the port side, right 
on the floor, about four streaks from the keel, and about fifteen 
feet from the forefoot, is a hole made by the Xiphias or swordfish. 
The sword was broken off and remained in the hole, leaving 
four inches projecting from the bottom. All attempts, however, 
to get it out failed, and they had finally to cut away the wood and 
loosen it, and then they succeeded in breaking away a piece nine inches 
long. The point, which has pierced right into the timbers, still re¬ 
mains embedded, and, judging by the dimensions of the piece extracted, 
it is twelve inches long. When it occurred no one on board can tell, 
but from the appearance of the broken sword it must have been done 
some considerable time. The amazing force of the shock may be im¬ 
agined when it is sufficient to pierce through the copper, and for thir¬ 
teen or fourteen inches into the solid oak plank and timber. From the 
position of the hole the swordfish must have risen up right under the 
ship. It is well known that it is in this way from beneath, that this 
fish attacks the whale. The Xiphias is of the mackerel family. No 
doubt this was a case of premeditated collision, and it was not a case 
of either lights or look-out. It is well it struck on a timber; had it 
gone through a plank between timbers the effect to the ship might have 
been fatal.” 


The symbolic meaning of precious stones in Germany is: 
Amethyst,control of the passions; aqua marine,misfortune; agate, 
long life and health; bloodstone, courage and discretion; chrysolite, 
















AND THE WISE. 


349 


preservation from folly; diamond, innocence; emerald, happiness; gar¬ 
net, fidelity to promises; opal, hope; ruby, oblivion and grief; sap¬ 
phire, repentance; sardonyx, conjugal fidelity; topaz, friendship; 
turquoise, success. 


NORWAY RATS ON A MARCH. 

OR WAY rats, to avert a famine, have a singular way of 
proceeding. When the time for the settlement of the ques¬ 
tion of partial extermination for the benefit of the race, or total 
extermination by starvation, can no longer be delayed, they 
assemble in countless thousands in some of the mountain valleys 
leading into the plains, and, the vast army of exiles being selected, 
they pour across the country in a straight line, a living stream, often 
exceeding a mile in length and many yards in breadth, devouring 
every green thing in their line of march, the countrv over which they 
have passed looking as if it had been plowed or burned with fire. 
They march principally by night and in the morning, resting during 
the day, but never seek to settle in any particular locality, however 
abundant food may be in it, for their final destination is the 
distant sea, and nothing animate or inanimate, if it can be sur¬ 
mounted, retards the straight onward tide of their advance. Foxes, 
lynxes, weasels, kites, owls, etc., hover on their line of march and de¬ 
stroy them by hundreds. The fish in the rivers and lakes lay a heavy 
toll upon them, and vast numbers are drowned and die by other acci- • 
dents in “ flood and field;” but the survivors, impelled by some irresis¬ 
tible instinct, press onward with no thought of stopping, until they 
lose themselves in the sea, sinking in its depths as they become ex¬ 
hausted, in such numbers that for miles their bodies, thrown up by the 
tide, lie putrefying on the shore.— Te?nftle Bar. 



UNCONSCIOUS INFLUENCE. 

It is said that among the high Alps at certain seasons the traveler 
is told to proceed very quietly, for on the steep slopes overhead the 



3i>0 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


snow hangs so evenly balanced that the sound of a voice, or the report 
ot a gun, may destroy the equilibrium and bring down an immense 
avalanche that will overwhelm everything in ruin in its downward 
path. And so about our way there may he a soul in the very crisis 
of its mortal history, trembling between life and death, and a mere 
touch or shadow may determine its destiny. 


<zJ Z7' 


How run Bye is Swept and Washed. 

For us to be able to see objects clearly and distinctly, it is necessary 
that the eye should be kept clean. For this purpose it is furnished 
with a little gland, from which flows a watery fluid (tears), which is 
spread over the eye by the lid, and it is afterward swept off by it, and 
runs through a hole in the bone to the under surface of the nose, 
while the warm air, passing over it while breathing, evaporates it. It 
is remarkable that no such gland can be found in the eyes of fish, as 
the element in which they live answers the same purpose. If the eye 
had not been furnished with a liquid to wash it, and the lid to sweep it 
off, things would appear as they do when you look through a dusty 
glass. Along the edges of the eyelids there are a great number of 
little tubes or glands, from which flows an oily substance which spreads 
over the surface of the skin, and thus prevents the edges from being 
sore or irritated, and it also helps to keep tears within the lid. There 
are also six little muscles attached to the eye which enable us to move 
it in every direction; and when we consider the different motions they 
are capable of giving to the eye, we cannot but admire the goodness 
of Him who formed them, and thus saved us the trouble of turning 
our heads every time we wished to view an object. 


A BIRD THAT TURNS SUMMERSAULTS . 

There’s a pretty little bird that lives in China, and is called the 
fork-tailed parus. He is about as big as a robin, and he has a red beak, 
orange-colored throat, green back, yellow legs, black tail, and red and 
yellow wings. Nearly all the colors are in his dress, you see, and he 




















✓ 



































' 


- 


. * 






























- 



























. 























AND THE WISE. 


3£l 


is a gay fellow. But this bird has a trick known to no other birds 
that ever I heard of. He turns summersaults! Not only does he do 
this in his free life on the trees, but also after he is caught and put in 
a cage. He just throws his head far back, and over he goes, touch¬ 
ing the bars of the cage, and alighting upon his feet on the floor or on 
a perch. He will do it over and over a number of times without 
stopping, as though he thought it great fun.— St. Nicholas. 


In far away India there is a bird which builds its nest by sewing 
leaves together. How it does it is a wonder, but not more wonder¬ 
ful than is all bird architecture. And yet we marvel at the intelligence 
which enables a plain little bird to do work so strongly resembling 
that of us more knowing ones. Using its bill for a needle, and with 
strong silken threads of spider’s webs, it sews the edges of the leaves 
together, very much as a tailor might do, only more securely if any¬ 
thing, as knots, or rather little buttons are made by twisting the ends 
of the thread upon itself, both on the inside and the outside of the 
leaves! The leaves having been thus securely fastened together, the 
inside is then softly and warmly padded, thus making a very compact 
and beautifully felted cup. The skill of these birds is perfect, and we 
marvel at it, until we think of the architecture of the bees, and of 
many other creatures whose work, although it does not so much re¬ 
semble that of man, is none the less ingenious and wonderful.— 
Scientific Miscellany. 


The pigeons of Venice are the proteges of the city, as the lions 
of St. Mark are its protectors. They are fed every day at 2 o’clock. 
A dinner-bell is rung for them; and they are not allowed to be inter¬ 
fered with. Any person found ill-treating a pigeon is arrested. If it 
is his first offence, he is fined; if he be an old offender, he is sent to 
prison. In the good old days of the republic, the guilt of shedding 








THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




a pigeon’s blood could only be expiated by the law of Moses taking 
full effect upon the culprit in the spirit of “ an eye for an eye and a 
tooth for a tooth,” much as the same law was brought to bear on 
poachers, sheep-stealers, and others in our own country eighty years 
ago. 

It is believed by the credulous that the pigeons of Venice are in 
some way connected with the prosperity of the city; that they fly 
round it three times every day in honor of the Trinity; and that their 
being domiciled in the town is a sign that it will not be swallowed up 
by the waves. When it is high-water, they perch on the top of the 
tower. When the Venetians are at war, or when there is any pros¬ 
pect of a change of dynasty, they gather round the lion of St. Mark, 
over the entrance to the cathedral, and consult in a low voice about 
the destinies of the city. Doubt these facts if you like, but not in 
Venice. What spiders were to Robert Bruce, what crocodiles are to 
certain wild tribes in Africa,' the columbines, or little pigeons, are to 
the Venetians .—All the Tear Round. 



Some birds fly sixty feet in a second; but a race-horse rarely ex¬ 
ceeds forty feet in the same time. The rice bird, which afterward 
becomes the reed bird of Delaware Bay, and the bobolink of New 
York, is often found below Philadelphia, with green rice in its crop. 
The same thing is true of pigeons during the rice-growing season. 
Hawks and many other birds probably fly at the rate of one hundred 
and fifty miles an hour. Sir George Cayley computes the common 
crow to fly at nearly twenty-five miles an hour. Spallanzani found 
the rate of the swallow at about ninety-two miles an hour, while he 
conjectures the rapidity of the swift to be nearly three times greater. 
A falcon which belonged to Henry IV. of France escaped from Fon¬ 
tainebleau, and in twenty-four hours afterward was found at Malta, a 
distance of not less than 1,500 miles, a velocity nearly equal t.o fifty- 
seven miles an hour, supposing the falcon to have been unceasingly on 
the wing. But, as such birds never fly by night, and allowing the 
day to be at the longest, his flight was, perhaps, equal to seventy-five 


AND THE WISE. 


miles an hour. If we even restrict the migratory flight of birds to 
fifty miles an hour, how easily can they perform their most extensive 
migrations! Fair winds may perhaps aid them at the rate of thirty or 
forty miles an hour; nay, with three times greater rapidity. 





ALL . 


A distinguished scientific writer, in speaking of the birds who 
have conquered the air, and whose gift of flight we often covet, savs.* 
“Yet, after all, it is upon the ground where difficulties are many, 
conditions varied, and where there is so much to call for contrivance, 
adaptation, and intelligence, that we must look for the highest types 
of life; and, while we leave the joyous birds with regret, we must go 
back to the lower forms among the four-footed animals, in order to 
travel along the line of those that have conquered the earth, and pre¬ 
pared the way for man himself.” 





The strength of spiders’ silk is enormous as compared with that 
of metals. A bar of iron one inch in diameter will sustain a weight 

o 

of 28 tons; a bar of steel 58 tons; and according to computation based 
upon the fact that a fiber only one four-thousandth part of an inch in 
diameter will sustain 54 grains, a bar of spiders’ silk an inch in di¬ 
ameter would support a weight of 74 tons. In other words, spiders’ 
silk has nearly three times the supporting strength of iron. 




THE DRAGON PLY'S FLIGHT . 

A dragon-fly, balanced on its wings at the side of a car speeding 
its way over the rails at a fate of forty miles an hour, appears to be 
almost motionless. But to keep up with the car its wings must vibrate 
many thousand times a second. The eye cannot detect their up and 
down action, so exceedingly rapid are the contractions and relaxations 
of the muscles acting upon them. All at once they dart off* at a right 
23 














354 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


angle so quickly that the retina cannot have an impression remaining 
long enough to trace their course. Therefore, those same muscles, 
too small to be seen but by powerful microscopic assistance, must be 
urged to still more rapid action. Such intense activity far exceeds the 
vibration of musical chords, and therefore exceedingly perplexes en¬ 
tomologists, because the nervous system of insects is so extremely 
minute. The question is: How much power is generated for keeping 
a dragon-fly’s wings in uninterrupted motion for many hours in suc¬ 
cession without apparent fatigue ?—Scientific American 




JHERE are numerous superstitions connected with bees, 
which there is reason to think are relics of this savage 
state of thought, when all that existed were under the 
same conditions as man himself, capable of the same 
feelings, and subject to the same wants and sorrows. For bees 
are credited with a perfect comprehension of all that men do and 
utter, and, as members themselves of the family they belong to, they 
must be treated in every way as human in their emotions. French 
children are taught that the inmates of the hive will come out to sting 
them for any bad language uttered within their hearing, and many of 
our readers have probably, at some time of their lives, on seeing a 
crape-covered hive, learned on inquiry that the bees were in mourning 
for some member of their owner’s family. In Suffolk, when a death 
occurs in a house, they immediately inform the bees, ask them formally 
to the funeral, and fix crape on their hives; otherwise it is believed 
they would die or desert. And the same custom, for the same reason, 
prevails, with local modifications, not only in nearly every English 
country, but widely over the continent. In Normandy and Brittany 
may be seen, as in England, the crape-set hives; in Yorkshire some of 
the funeral bread, in Lincolnshire some cake and sugar, may be seen at 
the hive door; and we have read of a Devonshire nurse on her way 
to a funeral sending back a child to perform the duty she herself had 
forgotten, of telling the bees. The usual explanation of these customs 








AND THE WISE. 


36S 


and ideas is that they originated long ago, with the death or flight of 
some bees, consequent on the neglect they incurred when the hand 
that once tended them could do so no longer. Yet a wider survey of 
analogous facts leads to the explanation above suggested; not to 
dwell on the fact that in some places in England they are informed of 
weddings as well as funerals, and their hives are decorated with favors 
as well as with crape.— Cornhill Magazine. 



A SPIDER 9 S APPETITE. 



Sjl'N order to test what a spider could do in the way of eating, we 
a» arose about daybreak one morning to supply his fine web with a 
W Ay* At first, however, the spider did not come from his retreat, 
* c <$? so we peeped among the leaves, and there discovered that an 


earwig had been caught, and was now being feasted on. The spider 
left the earwig, rolled up the fly, and at once returned to his “ first 
course.” This was at half-past 5 a. m., in September. At 7 a. m., 
the earwig had been demolished, and the spider, after resting a little 
while, and probably enjoying a nap, came down for the fly, which 
he had finished at 9 a. m. A little after 9 we supplied him with a 
daddy-long-legs, which was eaten by noon. At 1 o’clock a blow 
fly was greedily seized, and, with an appetite apparently no worse for 
his previous indulgence, he commenced on the blowfly. During the 
day, and toward the evening, a great many small green flies, or what 
are properly termed midges, had been caught in the web; of these we 
counted one hundred and twenty, all dead, and fast prisoners in the 
spider’s net. Soon after dark, provided with a lantern, we went to 
examine whether the spider was suffering at all from indigestion, or in 
any other way from his previous meals; instead, however, of being 
thus affected, he was employed in rolling up together the various little 
green midges, which he then took to his retreat and ate. This process 
he repeated, carrying up the lots in little detachments, until the whole 
web was eaten, for the web and its contents were bundled up together. 
A slight rest of about an hour was followed by the most industrious 
web-making process, and, before daybreak, another web was ready to 












3£6 THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 

be used in the same way. Taking the relative size of the spider and 
the creatures it ate, and applying this to a man, it would be somewhat 
as follows: At daybreak, a lamb; at 9 A. M., a young camelopard; 
at 1 o’clock, a sheep; and during the night, one hundred and twenty 
larks. This, we believe, would be a very fair allowance for one man 
during twenty-four hours; and could we find one gifted with such an 
appetite and such a digestion, we can readily comprehend how he 
might spin five miles of web without killing himself, provided he 
possessed the necessary machinery .—English Paper. 


~<o- 




-o>~* 


GO TO THE ANT. 

•f jp|VERYTHING pertaining to these little beings is full of inter- 
|ir^L est. Their general habits of life approach more nearly to 
those of human beings than do those of any other creature. 
The little midgets have learned pretty much all that is worth 
learning from us bigger people—particularly all that is bad. In 
their little way they can do a good deal that man can do, and 
some things that he cannot do; for Huber, Gould, McCook, and 
others, who have made a special study of their habits, tell us how 
they build houses and cities, which they inhabit, surrounded by 
the royalty and splendor of ant-life, while others (the agricultural 
ants) are enthusiastically devoted to farm life. If they do not dress 
in equipage, nevertheless, like the Chinese, the Japanese, and other 
nations, they always observe the fashion of their race, and in all things 
are scrupulously clean and neat. Such a thing as a dirty ant it would 
be hard to find. Even the lazy ones (for there are plenty of lazy 
ones, notwithstanding their well-founded reputation for industry) gen¬ 
erally manage to make their slaves attend to their master’s toilet. 
They can dispute and hold communication with their fellows, though 
just how they do it has puzzled all the naturalists to find out, and 
the ants themselves are wise enough not to tell. As nations, they go 
to war, sometimes like men, for trifling causes; but generally, like the 
United States and Mexico, over the questions of boundary lines; but 
their armies are quite as well disciplined, and fight on the same gen- 







AND THE WISE. 


3£7 


eral principles as those of any civilized nation. They keep domestic 
animals, beetles, and other insects, living in their houses, very much as 
we keep cats and dogs in ours, and many of them have extensive 
dairies of aphides, a milk-giving species of insect, which the ants 
tenderly care for. Some invisible bond makes all labor for the good 
of the whole. One of the principal rules in ant cities is for every mem¬ 
ber to help every other, who needs help; so we see that in some 
respects we are far behind the ants in civilization. 

Different species of ants never live together, and yet, in seeming 
contradiction of this, you will sometimes find the red and black ants 
living in the same tunnel. The truth is, the black ants are the slaves 
of the red, and have been captured in war. They do all the servile 
work about the premises; in fact, the red ants are most tyrannical task¬ 
masters. They are sometimes too lazy to walk, and will make the 
blacks lug them about in great style. 

Perhaps the most interesting of all species is the agricultural ant of 
this country, which is a model farmer in its way, clearing a tract of 
land sometimes twelve feet across, with avenues running up to it from 
different directions. In the center is the castle, or dwelling, and all 
about it the open court, which is kept smooth as any pavement, and 
where not a speck of grass is ever allowed to grow; but all about it 
the clever little insect actually sows seeds, and annually raises a crop 
of ant-rice, which is its food. 

Considered in any light, the habits of these little creatures, their 
powers of reasoning, their language, political economy, and general 
knowledge of “ men and things,” are wonderful in the extreme. 



THE WONDERS OP A PLEA. 


When a flea is made to appear as large as an elephant, we can see 
all the wonderful parts of its formation, and are astonished to find 
that it has a coat of armor much more complete than ever warrior 
wore, and composed of strong polished plates, fitted over each other, 
each plate covered like a tortoise shell, and where they meet, hundreds 
of strong quills project, like those on the back of a porcupine and 





S68 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


hedgehog. There is the arched neck, the bright eye, the transparent 
cases, the piercers to puncture the skin, a sucker to draw away the 
blood, six long-jointed legs, four of which are folded on the breast, all 
ready at any moment to be thrown out with tremendous force for 
that jump which bothers one when they want to catch him, and at 
the end of each leg hooked claws to enable him to cling to whatever 
he alights upon. A flea can jump a hundred times its own length, 
which is the same as if a man jumped six hundred feet; and he can 
draw a load two hundred times his own weight. 


§— 




-j —i 


i^dh^/o 

had blundered up into the garret dormitory where the 
mountains were lying down all around us in “ the sixth hour 
sleep.” The stage crept over a recumbent shoulder with¬ 
out waking the owner, rolled out upon the point where the 
drowsing giant would have worn an epaulette had he been 
in uniform, moved a few steps farther, came to a halt, and 
there, lighted by the afternoon sun behind us, speechless, near, far, 
nothing doubtful, nothing dim, the Yo Semite awaited us without 
warning, met us without coming. 



Spectral white in the glancing of the sun, the first thought was 
that the granite ledges of all the mountains had come to resurrection, 
and were standing pale and dumb before the Lord. We had emerged 
in an instant from a world of life, motion, and warm, rich color into 
the presence of a bloodless world, a mighty place of graves and monu¬ 
ments where no mortal ever died. It looked a little as I used to fancv 
those Arctic wonders looked to Dr. Kane, glaciers, icy peaks and tur¬ 
rets, turned imperishable in the golden touch of a tropic sun. For 
the'first few instants I saw nothing in detail. I had been making 
ready for it for weeks; not reading such dull descriptions as my own; 
not reading anything; only fancying, wondering, and here it took me 
by surprise at last! It seemed a glimpse into another and an inacces¬ 
sible kingdom. 

1 am ashamed to say for one moment I was disappointed, for another 













AND THE WISE. 


SS9 

afraid, in another astounded. I had nothing to say, nobody had any¬ 
thing to say, but a linnet that never minded it at all. The driver be¬ 
gan to introduce the congregation to us by name. I thought at first 
he was about to present us to the congregation—and I got out of his 
reach. It was much as if, when the three angels made a call at 
Abram’s tent on the plains of Mamre, the Patriarch had whipped out 
a two-foot rule and measured and written down the length of their 
wings. 

Almost four thousand feet below us was the valley with its green 
meadows, its rich foliage, and its River Merced. We looked down 
upon the road we must go, looped backward and forward upon the 
side of the wall, track under track, like the bow-knots of flourishes 
boys used to cut under their names, when writing-masters nibbed their 
pens, and boys ran out their tongues. VVe looked two miles across the 
air and saw the sculptured fortresses no man had made; saw a great 
heraldic shield, bare of inscription, a thousand feet from the ground. 
Upon that shield the coat-of-arms of the United States should be em¬ 
blazoned. It would be the grandest escutcheon on earth. 

I turned to it again, and began to see the towers, the domes, the 
spires, the battlements, the arches and the white clouds of solid granite, 
surging up into the air and come to everlasting anchor till “ the moun¬ 
tains shall be moved.” The horizon had been cleft and taken down 
to make room for this capital of the wilderness, and for the first time 
in my life I saw a walled way out of the azure circle that had always 
ringed me in. 

EL CAPITAN. 

The most impressive granite wonder in the valley is the great rock 
El Capitan, gray in the shadow, and white in the sun. Standing out, 
a vast cube with a half mile front, a half mile side, three-fifths of a 
mile high, and seventy-three hundred feet above the sea, it is almost 
the crowning triumph of solid geometry. Thirty u Palace Hotels 
seven stories each, piled one above the othei, would just leach the hang¬ 
ing eaves of El Capitan; two hundred and ten gianne stoiies by lawful 
count. Well did the Indians christen him 7u-toch-ah-nu-lah —Great 
Chief of the Valley. He fronts you when you catch your first glimpse 
from Inspiration Point. Had there been any fourteenth-story win- 


360 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL 


dows, you would have looked squarely into them. When you reach 
the valley he towers above you on the left. He grows grander and 
more solemn every step of the way. When you stand beneath him 
he blots out the world. When you near the base he roofs out the 
sky; for,though the wall seems to stand upright, the eaves project one 
hundred and three feet, a granite hood five hundred feet thick, but in 
the vastness you never see it. Get as far from him as you can, he never 
diminishes. He follows you as you go. He is the overwhelming 
presence of the place. A record in the Grand Register runs thus: 
“ A lady fellow-traveler, struck by the constant appearance of El Capi- 
tan in the valley, suggested that it recalls the Rabbinical legend, 4 The 
Rock that followed them was Christ.’” 

You never tire of seeing eastern sunshine move down the front, 
like a smile on a human face. You never tire of seeing the great 
shadows roll out across the broad meadows as the sun descends and 
rises, like the tide in Fundy’s Bay, till the valley is half filled with 
night, and the tips of the tall trees are dipped like pens in ink. You 
never weary of watching a light from a moon you cannot see, as it 
silvers the cornices and brightens the dusky front, as if wizards were 
painting their way down without stage or scaffold. A dark spot starts 
out in the light. It turns into a great cedar. Pines that stand about 
the base resemble shrubs along a garden wall. They are two hundred 
feet high. A few men have crept out to the eaves of El Capitan, 
looked over, and crept back again. Little white clouds sail silently 
toward the lofty eaves and are gone, as to a dove-cote in a garret. And 
yet an earthquake in 1872 rocked him like a cradle, and the clocks in 
the valley all stopped, as though, when El Capitan was moved, then 
44 time should be no longer.”— B. F. Taylor. 


—o-Nl))) 





The one great law which all living beings obey is to “increase, 
multiply, and replenish the earth,” and there has been no halting in 
their work from the day when first into our planet, from the bosom 
of the great Creator, was breathed the breath of life—the invisible 
mother ever taking shape in her children. Thousands of millions of 



AND THE WISE. 


361 


insects are born into the world every moment, which can never live, 
because there is not food enough for all. 

If there were only one single plant in the whole world to-day and 
it produced fifty seeds in a year, and could multiply unchecked, its 
descendants would cover the whole globe in nine years. In the same 
way one pair of birds, having four young ones each year, would, if all 
their children and descendants lived, and multiplied, produce tvjo 
thousand -millions in Jiftecn years. But, since there is not room for 
them, all but a very few must die. Plants can live on water and 
air, but animals cannot, and if there were not myriads of plants and 
animals to spare, there would not be enough for food.— Arabella B. 
Buckley. 

— »s ><H * •»->— 



H.E amount of the grain crop is something quite overwhelm¬ 
ing. The estimated grain crop of the United States for 1SS2 
was as follows : Corn, 1,635,000,000 bushels ; wheat, 510,- 
000,000 bushels ; oats, 470,000,000 bushels ; barley, 45,000,000 
bushels ; rye, 20,000,000—Total, 2,6So,ooo,ooo. 

This would be equal to 3,334,490,740 cubic feet, which would 
make a pyramid with a base one mile square and 360 feet high. 

Or it would fill 7,500,000 freight cars, making a train 50,000 miles 
long, reaching twice round the globe. 

Its value would be, in round numbers, $1,460,000,000. 

For the same period the estimated hay crop was more than 38,- 
000,000 tons, valued at nearly $370,000,000. 

Adding these together, we get $1,830,000,000 ; so that grass alone 

would pay our national debt in a year. 

The wheat crop of the world is estimated at 1,857,000,000 bushels. 
If the other cereals bear the same proportion to the wheat crop that 
they do in the United States, we should have the cereal crop of the 
world 9,000,000,000 bushels, making a pyiamid one mile squaie at 
the base and 1,200 feet high, or filling a train ot cars nearly 200,000 
miles long, or nearly the distance from the eaith to the moon. 

Then we have the sugar crop of the woild, estimated at 2,000,-' 











§62 . THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 

ooo tons, or enough to fill a train of 200,000 cars, extending 1,300 
miles. 

Besides all these, rice, another grass, is the chief food of the two 
hundred millions of China, and feeds more human beings than any 
other single article of food, its amount being utterly beyond the 
range of our estimation ; so that grass still comes to the front. 

When we let the imagination run over the countless and bound¬ 
less waving grain-fields of the Old World and the New, and think 
how each little rootlet, and stalk, and leaf, and flower has been busy 
drawing from earth, air, and water the materials which they have 
with marvelous chemical subtlety compounded into all this food for 
man and beast, we stand amazed at that creative wisdom, power, and 
skill which have so wonderfully endowed the grass-blades, and are 
ever enabling them to “work that ceaseless miracle of turning the 
clods of the valley into the daily bread of twelve hundred millions of 
human beings.”— y. W. Cbickering, yr . 



A REMARKABLE DAY AT NIAGARA . 

—. 

/ JjC||N March 29, 1848, a remarkable phenomenon occurred at Ni- 
CJM agara. The preceding winter had been intensely cold, and the 
' ice formed on Lake Erie was unusually thick. In the warm 
\yj' days of early spring, this mass of ice was loosened around the 
shores of the lake, and detached from them. During- the fore- 
noon of the day named, a stiff easterly wind moved up the lake. A 
little before sunset, the wind chopped suddenly round and blew a gale 
from the west. This brought the vast field of ice back again with 
such tremendous force that it filled in the neck of the lake and its out¬ 
let so as to form a very effective dam, that caused a remarkable dimi¬ 
nution in the outflow of the water. Of course it needed but little time 
for the Falls to drain off the water below this dam. The consequence 
was, that on the morning of the following day, the river was nearly 
half gone. The American channel had dwindled to a deep and narrow 
cieek. The British channel seemed to have been smitten with a quick 




AND THE WISE. 


consumption, and to be fast passing away. Far up from the head of 
Goat Island and out into the Canadian rapids, and from the foot of 
Goat Island out beyond the old Tower to the deep channel of the 
Horseshoe Falls, the water was gone. The rocks were bare,black, and 
forbidding. The roar ot Niagara had subsided to a moan. This ex¬ 
traordinary syncope of the waters lasted all day, and night closed over 
the strange scene. But during the night the dam gave way, and the 
next morning the river was restored in all its strength, beauty, and 
majesty.— Geo. IV. Holley. 




STRENGTH OF MATERIALS .. 



REFOLD may be hammered so that it is only 1,360,000 of an inch 
thick. A grain of iron may be divided into 4,000,000 parts. 
Still chemistry tells us that there are ultimate parts called 
atoms or molecules, which are absolutely indivisible. These 
atoms are attracted to each other by the attraction of cohesion, 
and repelled by the force of repulsion. By the action of both forces 
the atoms are kept in a state of rest. The solidity of a solid depends 
upon the fact that each pair of atoms are in this state of equilibrium. 
These atoms are supposed to be of an oblate, spheroidal form. An 
iron bar would support its own weight if stretched out to a length of 
31^ miles. A bar of steel was once made which would sustain its 
own weight if extended to a length of 13 1-2 miles. 

Our ideas of great and small are no guide to be used in judging of 
what is truly great and small in nature. The Bunker Hill Monu¬ 
ment might be built to over a mile in height without crushing the 
stones at its base. When bars of iron are stretched until they break, 
those which are the strongest increase in length less than the weaker 
ones. A piece of wood having a breadth and thickness of three inches 
and a length of four feet, if supported at its ends, would be bent one- 
millionth of an inch by a weight of three pounds placed at its center, 
and a weight of one-tenth of an ounce would bend it one-seventh mil- 
lionth of an inch. Prof. Norton described a machine for testing the 









364 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


variation of sticks of wood. The machine consists of levers and screws 
so contrived that the amount of weight brought to bear upon the stick 
can be accurately measured, and the variation of the stick from a 
straight line can be measured, even though it do not exceed one-seventh 
millionth of an inch. 

ifr»Es> fc=v - - »- 


SAND COLUMNS AND WATER SPOUTS . 

What think you of a gigantic column of sand raised vertically from 
the earth to the very heavens, whirling along in ever-varying shapes, 
and with incredible swiftness ? Such are the sand columns of the 
desert. And not unlike them are the beautiful but terrible water 
spouts at sea, when the waves from below, and the clouds from above 
meet in the air, and move in majestic columns across the sea. It is 
the fantastic labor of the wind. Similar phenomena occur on land, 
witness for instance, the destructive cyclones which occur in the West¬ 
ern part of our own country. 


7 ^ 



HOW LARGE IS THE SUN? 

If we were at its center our moon would revolve in its orbit but 
little more than half way to the sun's surface. If it were a hollow 
sphere, there would be sufficient room to accommodate more than 
1,200,000 balls the size of our planet. The earth is a mere homoeopa¬ 
thic pill in comparison with such a body, and if projected on its 
bright disc would, from our orbit, be absolutely invisible to the naked 
eye. 


NATURAL BRIDGE IN VIRGINIA . 

We used to read about it in the old school readers, but it is not so 
much talked about now. It is over Cedar Creek in Rockbridge Co., 
Va. The bed of the stream is more than 200 feet below the roadway, 
which crosses the bridge. On the abutments of the bridge there are 
many names carved in the rock, of persons who have climbed as high 

















AND THE WISE. 


3 61) 

as they dared on the face of the precipice. Highest of all for nearly 
thi ee-quai ters of a century was that of George Washington, who, 
when a youth, ascended to a point never before reached ; but which 
was surpassed in 181S by Janies Piper, a student in Washington Col- 
lege, who actually climbed from the foot to the top of the rock. 







THE GULP STREAM. 



sfHERE is a river in the ocean. In the severest drouths it never 
fails, and in the mightiest flood never overflows. Its banks 
and the bottom are of cold water, while its current is of warm. 

e . « • « . m _ 

dT/f\c) The Gulf of Mexico is its fountain, and its mouth is in the 
Arctic Seas. It is the Gulf Stream. There is in the world no other 
flow of water so majestic. Its current is more swift than the Missis¬ 
sippi or the Amazon, and its volume more than a thousand times 
greater. Its waters, as far as the Carolina coasts, are of indigo blue. 
They are so distinctly marked that the common sea water can be traced 
with the eye. Often one-half the vessel may be perceived floating in 
the Gulf Stream water, while the other half is in the common water of 
the sea, so sharp is the line and the want of affinity between these 
waters; and such, too, the reluctance, so to speak, on the part of those 
of the Gulf Stream to mingle with the common waters of the sea. In 
addition to this, there is another peculiar fact. The fishermen on the 
coast of Norway are supplied with wood from the tropics by the Gulf 
Stream. Think of the Arctic fishermen burning upon their hearths 
the palms of Hayti, the mahogany of Honduras, and the precious 
woods of the Amazon and the Orinoco. 


.—■•>- 2 ——* 


BEEP COUNTER CURRENTS . 

It is related that not long since the cable between Lisbon and 
Gibraltar became disabled. After some delay it was grappled in 500 
fathoms. It had been supposed that at that depth the ocean was at 
rest; but when the cable was brought to the deck of the repair ship, 






366 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


it showed plainly that it had been chafed against rocks by some 
mighty power in motion in the ocean depths, indicating plainly the 
existence of an ocean current at a depth of 3,000 feet along the 
Spanish coast. 

In the Straits of Gibraltar, there is said to be a powerful current 
setting from the Atlantic into the Mediterranean, and the wonder 
was that with no outlets, the Mediterranean did not overflow. Ac¬ 
cordingly it is related that a sea-captain, suspecting the truth, lowered 
a basket of stones from the prow of his vessel, when it was seized by 
a deep counter current, so strong that it towed the ship out into the 
Atlantic. 


THE POWER OP NIAGARA . 


SIEMENS, some months ago, in an address which he then 


! 



gave, referred to the immense quantity of power which flowed 
ready-made over the Falls of Niagara. In his Glasgow address 
\he again referred to the subject, in order to show how this gigan¬ 
tic source of power might be utilized to produce action at a distance. 
“When,” he says, “a little more than a twelvemonth ago I visited the 
great Falls of Niagara, I was particularly struck with the extraordinary 
amount of force which is lost, so far as the useful purposes of man are 
concerned. One hundred millions of tons of water fall there every 
hour from a vertical height of 150 feet, which represent an aggregate 
of 16,800,000 horse-power. In order to reproduce the power of 
16,800,000 horses, or, in other words, to pump back the water from 
below to above the fall, it would require an annual expenditure of not 
less than 266,000,000 tons of coal, calculated at an average consump¬ 
tion of four pounds of coal per horse-power per hour, which amount 
is equivalent to the total coal consumption of the world. I11 stating 
these facts in my inaugural address on assuming the presidency of the 
Iron and Steel Institute, I ventured to express the opinion that, in 
order to utilize natural forces of this description at distant towns and 
centers of industry, the electric conductor might be resorted to. This 
view was at that time unsupported by experimental data such as I 
have been able since then to collect.”— Nature. 










AND THE WISE. 


36 ? 



THE WHIRLPOOL . 

- % 

iRjR* HOWELLS, in the “Wedding Journey,” speaks of 
the whirlpool as “the most impressive feature of the 
^ whole prodigious spectacle of Niagara,” and his descrip- 
tion of it is worth quoting: “ Here, within the compass 
of a mile, those inland seas of the North Superior, Huron, 
Michigan, Erie, and the multitude of smaller lakes, all pour 
their floods, where they swirl in dreadful vortices, with resistless under¬ 
currents boiling beneath the surface of that mighty eddy. Abruptly 
from this scene of secret power, so different from the thunderous 
splendors of the cataract itself, rise lofty cliffs on every side, to a height 
of two hundred feet, clothed from the water’s edge almost to their 
crests with dark cedars. Noiselessly, so far as your senses perceive, 
the lakes steal out of the whirlpool, then, drunk and wild, with brawl¬ 
ing rapids roar away to Ontario through the narrow channel of the 
river. Awful as the scene is, you stand so far above it that you do 
not know the half of its terribleness, for those waters that look so 
smooth are great ridges and rings, forced by the impulse of the cur¬ 
rents twelve feet higher in the center than at the margin. Nothing 
can live there, and what is caught in its hold the maelstrom plays 
with for days and whirls and tosses round and round in its toils with 
a sad, maniacal patience. The guides tell ghastly stories, which even 
their telling does not wholly rob of ghastliness, about the bodies of 
drowned men carried into the whirlpool and made to enact upon its 
dizzy surges a travesty of life, apparently floating there at their pleas¬ 
ure, diving and frolicking amid the waves, or frantically struggling to 
escape from the death that has long since befallen them.” 


^5^*— 0- r 


-M- 


TME GREAT MAELSTROM AS IT IS. 


Nearly midway in London Strait, a huge naked rock, which 
might fairly be called an island, lifts itself above the waters, breasting 
the conflicting currents caused by the winds and tides. Between this 
rock and the cape on Muskong is the famous maelstrom, which fertile 












368 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


imaginations have clothed with many terrors. Its geographical posi¬ 
tion is such as to expose it to fierce tidal currents, and, when these are 
assisted by high westerly winds, they are, no doubt, terrific. The 
bottom of the strait is strewn with immense boulders, which are so 
arranged as to give the current a spiral motion, directed toward the 
isolated rock from the northern side, which is much increased in times 
of high tides and storms, when it whirls quite around the island rock. 
Then it is that it becomes really difficult for boats and vessels without 
steam power to keep clear of the rocks against which the wayward 
currents would dash them. While there are at times vast and powerful 
eddies, which give objects floating upon them a fearful spiral motion, 
there is nothing like a vortex produced by a subterranean discharge of the 
water, although the tumbling and boiling character of the spiral cur¬ 
rent may submerge, temporarily, objects drifting on the surface. No 
doubt, in the course of time, the action of the water has tended to 
level down the bed of rocks, some of which, we may presume, showed 
themselves above the surface. This may have been the maelstrom 
much more terrific than it is now, and better justified the ancient fable. 
As it is, in ordinary times and in favorable weather, the fishermen do 
not hesitate to seek for fares throughout these waters, which, to 
strangers, are suggestive of the most terrible dangers. — U A Sum¬ 
mer in Norway ,” by D. Canton. 


S—si 



A POWER TEAT LIFTS TEE OCEAN—ALL ABOUT 

TEE TIDES . 

Another more noticeable effect of the moon’s attraction are the 
tides. Twice a day the earth, like every good man, attempts com¬ 
munion with the sky. Twice a day the bosom of the sea swells 
heavenward. The explanation is this: As the earth, in revolving on 
its axis, presents all parts of its surface in succession to the moon, that 
body, by the attraction of gravitation, draws up the water in a ridge 
toward itself, at the same time making a similar ridge by drawing the 
earth away from the water on the opposite side; so that we have two 
great tidal swells, convex toward the west, about twelve hours apart, 
apparently following the moon in its daily movement around the 









AND THE WISE. 


369 


earth; checked somewhat in their movement by their own inertia and 
friction among the barriers of shores and irregularities of sea-beds; 
reflected in this direction and that, according to the lay and shape of 
coasts; about two and a half feet high on the average, but heaped up 
as high as fifty or even one hundred and twenty feet in some confined 
places of peculiar conformation, and then almost or quite dissipated 
by shoals and other dispersive agencies. Thus it would seem to a 
bird’s-eye view. But really there is no progressive movement of the 
water in the open sea in the case of the tides. No European water 
is rolled over to America at the rate of a thousand miles an hour. It 
is merely a successive rising and sinking of the sea all round the 
world.— Rev. E. F. Burr. 




■■—O— 


A FIFTY DAYS' STORM OF SAND. 

The Simoom is the awful scourge of the desert each year. In 
Egypt it blows for twenty-five days before and after the vernal 
equinox. The moment its approach is noticed, the birds seek safety 
in flight, and camels bury their noses in the sand. The people every¬ 
where shut themselves up in their houses, or burrow into pits made 
for the purpose. It blasts whatever it touches. In 1S05 a caravan, 
consisting of 200 persons and 1,800 camels, perished in the Simoom. 

^-*- S - 

POWER OF THE WAVES. 

Those who have never lived on a stormy coast, nor been to sea> 
can form no adequate idea of the effect that can be pioduced by the 
impact of a succession of waves, or ot a single wave. What has hap¬ 
pened at Wick, on the extreme northern coast of Scotland, where a 
breakwater has been building for some years past, may give an idea 
of what is meant by wave-power. It was found that stones of ten tons 
weight were as pebbles to the waves, which have been measured to be 
here forty-two feet from crest to the bottom of the trough. The outei 
end of the breakwater, where the storms beat most violently, was built 
of three courses of one hundred ton stones laid on the rubble founda- 
24 





THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


3ZQ 

tions; next above these were three courses of large, flat stones, and 
upon this a mass of concrete, built on the spot, of cement and rubble. 
The end of the breakwater was thought to be as immovable as the 
natural rock ; yet the resident engineer saw it slowly yield to the force 
of the waves and swing round into the less troubled water inside the 
pier. It gave way not in fragments but in one mass, as if it was a 
monolith. The displaced mass is estimated to weigh about 1,35° tons. 


U\ 

There is a singular natural curiosity in a lake in Vermont, con¬ 
sisting of one hundred and fifty acres of land floating on the surface 
of the water. The tract is covered with cranberries, and there are 
trees fifteen feet high. When the water is raised or lowered at the 
dam of the pond, the island rises and falls with it. It affords a fine 
shelter for fish, large numbers of which are caught by boring a hole 
and fishing down through, as through the ice in winter. 


kxOOOo-^ 


Did you ever hear that rivers made presents to the world? 

I never heard it till to-day. But it seems that they do. The land 
of Egypt was a gift of the river Nile. It was in this way: Once 
this country, now so fertile, was nothing but a barren desert, like that 
of the Great Sahara, which lies near it. The river Nile had to flow 
through this desolate country to get to the sea, and every year brought 
down from the rich land of Abyssinia as much fertile soil as he could 
carry, and, overflowing his banks, spread it all over the sandy desert 
as far as he could reach. By doing this year after year,, he turned the 
desert into a fruitful land. Sometimes he would bring down so much 
rich soil that he would have more than he could spread on the sandy 
plain. This he would take down and drop into the sea, until at last, 
in the course of ages, he has built up here a triangular piece of very 
fertile land, called the Delta of the Nile. The whole has formed a very 
rich present to the world .—From “Jack-in-the-Pulpit” St. Nicholas. 







AND THE WISE. 


371 - 



DIAMONDS OP SOUTH AFRICA. 

£ 

modern discovery of diamonds came about in this wise*. 
In 1867 a certain John O’Reilly, trader and hunter, on his way 
from the interior, reached the junction of two rivers, and 
’ stopped for the night at the house of a farmer named Van 

Niekerk. The children were playing on the earth floor with 
some pretty pebbles they had found the day before in the river. One 
of these pebbles attracted O’Reilly’s attention. He said, picking it 
up, “ That might be a diamond.” Niekerk laughed, and said he 
could have it, it was no diamond; if it was, there were plenty around 
there. However, O’Reilly was not to be laughed out of his idea, and 
said that if Niekerk didn’t object he would take it with him to Cape 
Town, and see what it was, and if it proved to be of value, he would 
give him half the proceeds. On the way down, a long journey, he 
stopped at Colesburg, at the hotel, and showed the pebble, scratching 
with it a pane of glass. His friends laughingly scratched glass with 
a gun-flint, and threw the pebble out of the window, telling O’Reilly 
not to make a fool of himseif. However, O’Reilly persevered, got it 
to Dr. Atherstone, near the coast, who announced that it was in truth 
a diamond of 221^ carats. It was sold for $3,000. I am glad to say 
that O’Reilly divided fairly with Niekerk. The latter remembered 
that he had seen an immense stone in the hands of a kaffir witch¬ 
doctor who used it in his incantations. He found the fetish-man, 


gave him 500 sheep, horses, and nearly all he possessed, and sold it 
the same day to an experienced diamond buyer for $56,000. This 
was the famous “ Star of South Africa.” It weighed 84^ carats in 
the rough, and was found to be a gem cpiite the rival ot any Indian 
stone in purity and brilliance. After it had been cut it was bought 
by the Earl of Dudley, and it is now known as the “ Dudley” diamond. 
The natives crawled over the ground, and found many more, and the 
excitement grew, and became intense. By 1869 parties in ox-wagons 
had worked their way over the weary plains of the Vaal River. 
From all parts of the colony and from foreign lands people swarmed, 
and soon, like the creation of a dream, a tented city of 12,000 or 
more grew at Pniel and Klipdrift, the opposite banks of the stieam, 







THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


S72 

where diamonds were found plentifully, and of excellent qualit}', by 
sorting over the boulder-drift. Soon hundreds of cradles, like those 
used by the Australian gold-diggers, were rocking on the^edge of the 
stream, supplied with the precious by a large force of diggers, sievers, 
and carriers. People were thunderstruck at their success. Poor men, 
with a turn of the hand, became rich. Hotels, bakeries, breweries, 
drinking saloons, and shops were erected, and reaped rewards quite 
as large as did the diggers. It was a marvelous scene at night, when 
the opposite camps were lit up with lights shining through the tent 
cloth buildings. 

WEIGHTS AND VALUES OF THE LARGEST DIAMONDS IN THE WORLD. 


Name. 

Weight. 

Value. 

Orl off 

193 carats 

$ 500,000 

Pitt 

136 “ 

600,000 

Pigott 

98 “ 

50,000 

Koh-i-noor 

102^ “ 

2,000,000 

Sanci 

V* 

CO 

v- 

100,000 

Dudley 

2 54 'A “ 

750,000 


The Koh-i-noor originally weighed Soo carats, but was reduced 
to 279 by the awkwardness of the cutter. It was re-cut in 1852, and 
now weighs 102^ carats.— People's Cyclopedia. 



Mr. Vincent gives an interesting account of the elephants employed 
in the immense timber yards at Maulmain. The power, sagacity and 
docility displayed by these trained animals, are wonderful. They are 
chiefly employed in drawing, stacking, and shifting the huge teak logs, 
some of them weighing as much as two tons, which are cut in the 
forests upon the banks of the Salween, and floated down the river to 
timber yards. A log that forty coolies can scarcely move, the ele¬ 
phant will quietly lift upon his tusks, and holding it there with his 
proboscis, wdll carry it to whatever part of the yard he may be 
directed by his driver. He will also, using trunk, feet, and tusks, pile 
the huge timbers with the utmost precision. It is surprising to see 






AND THE WISE. 


373 


the sagacious animal select and pick out particular timbers from the 
center of a large heap at the driver’s command. The elephants are 
directed by spoken orders, pressure of the driver’s feet, and the goad. 
It usually requires a year and a half to train an elephant thoroughly 
for the lumber business. Sometimes an animal will break his tusks 
from being forced by an ignorant or brutal driver to carry an excessive 
load, but generally he knows his own strength, and refuses to lift 
more than his tusks will bear. Should these break off close to the 
head, the elephant would die; if only cracked, they are bound with 
iron, and rendered as serviceable as before. 




Look carefully under her abdomen, and near the tip you will see 
six little nipples. Under these nipples, inside her body, there are 
special glands in which a kind of gum is secreted, and this dries when 
it comes into the air, and forms a silken thread, from which the spider 
han^s, and out of which she forms her web. And now comes the 

o / 

almost incredible part of the story. These nipples, which are called 
“spinnerets,” have not merely one opening,like a cow’s teat, but each 
one, tiny as it is, is pierced with at least a hundred holes, and when the 
spider begins her web, more than six hundred separate strands go to 
make up a single thread. 

_ . 'll,.?’ 1 - j r—"ll.lll' • , r 

♦ /7 7 t-.iiiini'^— f=^ -"hihi»-F = -t -—r — 

THE FOOT OF A HORSE. 

The human hand has often been taken to illustrate Divine wisdom 

_ an d very well. But have you ever examined your horse’s hoof? 

It is hardly less curious in its way. Its parts aie somewhat moie com¬ 
plicated, yet their design is simple and obvious. The hoof is not, as 
it appears to the careless eye, a mere lump of insensitive bone, fastened 
to the leg by a joint. It is made up of a series of thin layers, or leaves 
of horn, about 500 in number, and nicely fitted to each othei, and 
forming a lining to the foot itself. Then there are as many more 
layers, belonging to what is called the “ coffin-bone,” and fitted into 








3Z4 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


this. These are elastic. Take a quire of paper, and insert the leaves 
one by one into those of another quire, and you will get some idea of 
the arrangement of the several layers. Now the weight of the horse 
rests on as many elastic springs as there are layers in his four feet— 
about 4,000—and all this is contrived, not only for the conveyance of 
his own body, but for whatever burdens may be laid on him. 




Not to the tourist merely, but to the student of science does Cali¬ 
fornia present the greatest attractions. There are evidences of glaciers 
that surpassed those of Switzerland; there are proofs of volcanic revo¬ 
lutions that utterly changed the form of the continent; where its 
mountains now rise once rolled grand rivers; out of their depths have 
been dug the bones of a gigantic race that lived further back in the 
ages than human life was ever before known; the State has diluvial 
deposits 1,500 feet deep, and granite mountains 12,000 to 15,000 feet 
high ; silent craters are open upon many of her highest peaks; where 
Switzerland has one mountain 13,000 feet high, California has a hun¬ 
dred; she has a waterfall fifteen times as high as Niagara; she has 
lakes so thin that a sheet of paper will sink in their waters; others 
so voracious that they will consume man, body, boots and breeches in 
thirty days; while her men are the most enterprising and audacious, 
her women the most self-reliant and richly dressed, and her children 
the stoutest, sturdiest, and the sauciest in the world .—Sajnuel Bowles . 




BREATHE PURE AIR ONLY. 

According to Hopley, the number of air-cells in the human lungs 
amounts to no less than 600,000,000. According to Dr. Hales, the 
diameter of each of these may be reckoned at the 100th of an inch. 
It will be useful, then, to imprint on the memory that whether we 
breathe pure or putrid air, the air inspired is ever in immediate contact 
with an extent of vital surface ample enough for the erection of a 
large house. 



AND THE WISE. 


37U 



HO has not heard of it? How many times has it been 
ll'J) mentioned in sermon and story and song? And what is it? 
The ancients had a big word —- Nephalococcygia — to 
S/'f'Vd describe a city built by the cocoos in the clouds. Well, 
the Fata Morgana is a city built in the clouds—not by the cocoos, 
but by the sun. It occurs at Naples, and at Reggio, upon the 
Sicilian coast. On certain calm mornings, crowds of people on 
the shore gazing into the heavens, behold this wonderful spectacle. 
First may be seen, perhaps rows of lofty columns, as of gigantic 
temples; in the twinkling of an eye these lose half their height, and 
take the shape of arcades and vaults, like the Roman aqueducts. 
These soon fade, and give place to gigantic towers, which in turn dis¬ 
appear, succeeded by colonnades and windows; and lastly, pine trees 
and cypresses, several times repeated. All this upon the heavens 
above, passing in absolute silence, with only the sun and the atmos¬ 
phere as architects. Of course, for ages, a superstitious people believed 
it was the work of fairies; but a later and more intelligent scientific 
age knows it to be only an atmospheric phenomenon, repeated in many 
forms elsewhere. 

The German Brocken, the famous circle of Ulloa, and the mirage 
of the desert, of which all have heard, and by which beautiful lakes, 
and groves of palm, with fountains dancing in their midst, are made 
to attract travelers perishing with thirst—all these are Fata Morgana 
—delusions all. 


WHAT BURDENS WB BEAR. 

In 1640 the Grand Duke of Tuscany, having ordered the con¬ 
struction of fountains upon the terrace of the palace, it was found 
impossible to make the water rise more than 32 feet. The Duke 
wrote to Galileo in reference to this strange refusal of the water 
to obey the pumps. Torricelli, the pupil and friend of Galileo, gave 
the true explanation of the fact, and proved, by a seiies of expeiimcnts, 










S7<3 


THE BEAZJTIPULi, THE WONDE^PIfL, 


that this column of water of 32 feet, was in equilibrium with the weight 
of the atmosphere. The surface of the earth therefore sustains a 
weight as if it was covered with a body of water about 32 feet deep, 
and we who live upon it undergo the same pressure. Thus we all are 
the heaviest burden bearers, and yet insensibly so, as the pressure is 
alike within and without. 


— 5 - 




A mass of 90,000,000 tons of pure, solid, compact rock salt, located 
on an island 185 feet high, which rises from a miserable sea marsh on 
the route from Brashear to New Iberia, up the River Teche, Louisiana, 
is one of the wonders of the world. How this island, containing over 
300 acres of excellent land, ever came into existence in such a locality, 
is a matter of conjecture. Vegetation is prolific, and the scenery is 
beautiful and varied. Here is an immense bed of pure rock salt, whose 
extent is as yet only estimated, and scientific men are puzzled. 

- QJ TT ■ - 

CURIOUS THINGS ABOUT BATS . 

Savs an eminent scientific writer: “Bats have been blinded, their 
ears stopped with wool, and their noses with sponge that had been 
dipped in camphor; and yet, thus without sight, hearing, or smell, 
they would fly between outstretched threads or tree branches with¬ 
out hitting them with their wings, and find their way into holes In 
the roof.” By what unknown powers can they thus be guided? 


O • 0*^0 • ** 0 ' 


A great geological curiosity has just been deposited in the museum 
of the Hartley Institution at Southampton, England, consisting of a 
piece of flexible stone about two feet long, seven inches wide, and 
more than one inch in thickness, having the appearance of rough sand¬ 
stone, which bends with a slight pressure like a piece of India-rubber 










AND THE WISE. 


S’ZZ 


or gutta percha of the same size. This interesting specimen of geol¬ 
ogy has been placed in a glass case constructed for it, fitted with a 
lever, by touching the key of which on the outside of the case the 
flexibility of the stone is shown. It was presented to the Hartley 
Institution by Mr. Edward Cushen, from his relative, Mr. R. S. Mun- 
den, who obtained it from Delhi, India. In its natural position the 
stone is said to run in thin layers in the soil in which it is found, but is 
so rare in India that it finds a place in the museums at Calcutta. 
There is a similar stone, but not so wide as the one under notice, in the 
British Museum, and another in the museum of the School of Mines, 
but specimens are very rarely to be met with. Although the stone 
has a gritty appearance, no grit or dust is thrown off by the motion 
given to it when under pressure. 


( - • 

M ullin'- ■ > — ■uim» + — f 

• — —* 


AMERICAN WONDERS . 




ffHE greatest cataract in the world is the Falls of Niagara, 


where the water from the great upper lakes forms a river 

three-fourths of a mile in width, and then, being suddenly 

contracted, plunges over the rocks in two columns to the 

depth of one hundred and seventy feet each. 

The o-reatest cave in the world is the Mammoth Cave in Ken- 

tucky, where one can make a voyage in the waters of a subterranean 

river, and catch fish without eyes. 

The o-reatest river in the world is the Mississippi, four thousand one 
& 

hundred miles long. 


The largest valley in the world is the V alley of the ^Mississippi. It 
contains five hundred thousand square miles, and is one of the most 
fertile regions of the globe. 

The largest lake in the world is Lake Superioi, which is tiul\ an 
inland sea, being four hundred and thirty miles long, and very deep. 

The lono-est railroad in the world is the Pacilic Railroad, over 
three thousand miles in length. 

The o-reatest natural bridge in the world is the Natural Bridge 
















3$ 8 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


over Cedar Creek in Virginia. It extends across a chasm eighty feet 
in width and two hundred and fifty feet in depth, at the bottom of 
which the creek flows. 

The greatest mass of solid iron in the world is the great Red 
Mountain, near Birmingham, Alabama. It is three hundred and fifty 
feet high and fifty miles in length, of almost solid iron ore, the largest 
and richest deposit known in the world. 

The largest deposit of anthracite coal in the world is in Penn¬ 
sylvania, the mines of which supply the market with millions of tons 
annually. 





I©—S 


WAT DYNAMITE IS. 



YNAMITE is the most deadly weajDon of modern criminals 
against society. It is a combination of nitro-glvcerine with 
a plastic kind of clay. In appearance it somewhat resembles 
putty, and is made up into cartridges, each weighing about 
two ounces. The manufacture of dynamite is attended with some 
risk, but when once made, if the ingredients are pure, it is compara¬ 
tively harmless as long as it is kept apart from the materials which 
are used to explode it. 

It is commonly supposed that the transportation of dynamite is 
very dangerous, but it is far less so than gunpowder. A wooden 
packing-case filled with the explosive has been set on fire, the only 
result being a burst of dynamite flame. 

Boxes filled with dynamite have been thrown from great heights, 
and cans loaded with dynamite have been smashed in railroad colli¬ 
sions without an explosion. 

Commonly, the destructive properties of dynamite are brought 
into play only by means of a detonating cartridge. In blasting rocks 
with dynamite, the dynamite cartridges are first pressed into a hole, 
and over them is inserted another kind of cartridge, called the primer. 

This cartridge contains a “ detonator,” which is a copper cap, an 
inch long, holding a small charge of fulminate powder. To this pri¬ 
mer is attached a fuse, and when the fuse burns down to the fulminate 













AND THE WISE. 


379 


in the detonator, it explodes ; and this, in turn, fires the dynamite, and 
shatters the rock. If the detonator is set with more than three-fourths 
of its length in the dynamite, the fuse may set fire to the latter and 
burn it away harmlessly before the fulminate is“ reached and exploded. 
This accounts for many unsuccessful attempts to blow up buildings. 


H((®H*s>c 

THE COW TREE . 

“Among the many curious phenomena which presented themselves 
to me in the course of my travels,” says Humboldt, “ I confess there 
were few by which my imagination was so profoundly affected as by 
the Cow Tree. On the parched side of a rock on the mountains of 
Venezuela grows a tree with dry and leathery foliage. For several 
months in the year its leaves are not moistened by a shower; its 
branches look as if they were dead; but when its trunk is bored a 
bland and nourishing milk flows from it. It is at sunrise that the 
vegetable fountain flows most freely. At that time the natives are 
seen coming from all parts with bowls to receive the milk. Some 
empty their bowls on the spot, while others carry them to their 
children.” 



HOUGH the tropical scrubs of Queensland are very 
luxuriant and beautiful, they are not without their danger¬ 
ous drawbacks, for there is one plant growing in them 
(jfwyr) that is really deadly in its effects—that is to say, deadly 
in the same way that one would apply the term to fire, as, if 
a certain proportion of any one’s body is burnt by the sting¬ 
ing tree, death will be the result. It would be as safe to pass 
through fire as to fall into one of these trees. They are found grow¬ 
ing from two to three inches high, to ten or fifteen feet. In the old 
ones the stem is whitish, and red berries usually grow on the top. It 
emits a peculiar and disagreeable smell, but is best known by its leaf, 
which is nearly round, and, having a point at the top, is jagged all 







380 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


round the edge like the nettle. All the leaves are large—some larger 
than a saucer. 

“ Sometimes,” says a traveler, “ while shooting turkeys in the 
scrubs, I have entirely forgotten the stinging tree, till warned of its 
close proximity by its smell, and have then found myself in a little 
forest of them. I was only once stung, and that very lightly. Its 
effects are curious; it leaves no mark, but the pain is maddening, and 
for months afterward the part when touched is tender, in rainy 
weather, or when it gets wet in washing, etc. I have seen a man, who 
treats ordinary pain lightly, roll on the ground in agony, after being 
stung; and I have known a horse so completely mad, after getting into 
a grove of the trees, that he rushed open-mouthed at every one who 
approached him, and had to be shot in the scrub. Dogs, when stung, 
will rush about, whining piteously, biting pieces from the affected 
part. The small stinging trees, a few inches high, are as dangerous as 
any, being so hard to see, and seriously imperiling one’s ankles. This 
scrub is usually found growing among palm trees.”— Traveler. 


If the revolution of the earth on its axis were to be suddenlv 
stopped, the temperature of everything would be raised to such a 
degree that it could exist only in the form of vapor. When a bullet 
strikes the target, it becomes so hot that it cannot be held in the hand. 
Its velocity is 1,200 feet per second. But what must be the heat pro¬ 
duced when a body like the earth, moving 90,000,000 feet per second, 
is suddenly arrested? It would be converted into a sea of fire. 

THINGS NO T GENERAL! Y KNO WN. 

It is estimated that a goose accomplishes the work of 400 horse¬ 
power in flying, but by an arrangement of its wings is actually obliged 
to exert a far smaller 2X>wer. A mosquito weighs 460 times less than 
the grasshopper, and has proportionally fourteen times as much surface 
exposed by its wings. The sparrow only weighs a tenth as much as 











AND IPHB WISE. 


381 


the above, and yet its wings have twice the surface. The sparrow 
weighs 339 times less than the Australian crane, and possesses wings 
that have seven times the surface. 



A FAITHFUL BOG . 



FRENCH merchant, having with him a bag of gold, 

I I® which he tied to his saddle, started for home after a long 
| journey, accompanied by his faithful dog. After riding some 

miles, he alighted to rest himself under a shady tree, and 
taking the bag of money in his hand, he laid it down 

by his side. On mounting again, he forgot his bag. The dog, per¬ 
ceiving this, ran to fetch it, but it was too heavy for him to drag 

along. He then ran after his master, and by barking, tried to 

remind him of his mistake. The merchant did not understand these 
signs; but the dog went on with his efforts, and after trying in vain 
to stop the horse, at last began to bite his heels. 

The thought now struck the merchant that the faithful creature had 
gone mad; and so, in crossing the brook, he turned back to see if the 
dog would drink. The animal \yas too intent on his object to think 
of itself; and it continued to bark and bite with greater violence than 
before. 

“Alas!” cried the merchant, “ it must be so! My poor dog is 
certainly mad; what must I do? I must kill him; I may myself be¬ 
come the victim if I spare him.” With these words he drew a pistol 
from his pocket and took aim. The poor dog fell weltering in his 
blood; and his master, unable to bear the sight, spurred on his horse. 
“ I am most unfortunate,” said he to himself. “I had almost rather 
have lost my money than my dog.” Saying this, he stretched out his 
hand to grasp his treasure. No bag was to be found! In an instant 
he opened his eyes to his folly. 

He turned his horse and rode back to the place where he had 
stopped.. He saw marks of blood as he proceeded, but in vain did he 
look for his dog; he was not to be seen on the road. At last he 









382 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


reached the spot where he had rested. The poor dog had crawled, 
all bloody as he was, to the forgotten bag. When he saw his master, 
he still showed his joy by the wagging of his tail. He tried to rise, 
but his strength was gone; and, after stretching out his tongue to lick 
the hand that was now fondling him in agony of regret, he closed his 
eyes in death. 



N some of the East India islands, where so many queer things 
grow, is found a flower that measures a full yard across. Yet 
it has only a cup-like center, and five broad, thick, fleshy petals. 

Seen from a distance, through the dark green leaves of the vines 
among which it grows, the rich wine-tint of the flower, flecked with 
spots of a lighter shade, is said to impart a warmth and brilliancy of 
color to the whole surrounding scene. But the nearer the observer 
comes—all eagerness to see more closely so wonderful a flower—the 
less does he like it. Not that the color is less beautiful; but who cares 
for beauty in human beings, when its possessor is malicious, disdain¬ 
ful, or untruthful? And who cares for beauty in a flower, when the 
odor is disagreeable? 

So, notwithstanding its proudly brilliant color, and its great size, 
the rafflesiaarldia will never be admired, for we are told that its 
“ odor is intolerable, polluting the atmosphere for many feet around.” 
Another bad trait of its flower-character is, that it is too lazy to sup¬ 
port itself, but lives upon the labors of others. In the forests where 
it is found, there are many vines, sometimes climbing up the trunks of 
the trees, and sometimes trailing along the ground. Fastening itself 
to a vine in the latter ppsition, the unprincipled rafflesia grows with¬ 
out other trouble to itself than to draw for its own use, the nutriment 
which the industrious vine-roots are all the while collecting'' from the 
earth. The vine must be very amiable, you think? Ah! but the 
poor vine cannot help itself. It cannot shake off the big, selfish 
flower, and can only work harder than ever to collect supplies suffi¬ 
cient to nourish the odious hanger-on, and have enough, in addition, 
for its own branches and leaves.— St. Nicholas. 













AND THE WISE. 


m 

THE SCENT OP THE ROSES . 

The manufacture of the costly perfume, otto of roses, is largely 
carried on in the valley of Kesanlik, Roumelia, the annual production 
of the rose farms of which amounts to four thousand four hundred 
pounds of the otto per year. As it requires about one hundred and 
thirty thousand roses, weighing some fifty-seven pounds, to make an 
ounce of the oil, some idea of the extent of the plantations may be 
formed from the above given total. The flowers are gathered in the 
middle of May, and the harvest continues for three weeks. The 
blossoms collected each day are at once worked, in order that none of 
the odor may be lost. The process consists in distilling them in 
water, and then causing the water alone to undergo distillation, when 
the oil is skimmed from the surface. The labor is principally done by 
women and children, at wages of about ten cents per day. Geranium 
oil is used in adulterating the perfume. 

5— -'Ir— o^o— i \r -£ 

THE ROSE GARTENS OP PRANCE . 

The rose gardens of France are celebrated. Acres or acres of 
roses bloom in them for the perfumer. Heliotrope, mignonette and 
other floral plants are also found side by side with them in dense 
masses. The air is heavy with almost sickening fragrance, and for 
miles around the breezes bear the sweet tidings that they “have flown 
o’er the gardens of Gaul in their bloom.” But who has heard of an 
English lavender-field ? Few, certainly, in this country. Within 
thirty miles of London these lavender-fields have become an extensive 
and recognized industry. There is annually produced in England 
alone sufficient oil from the plant to manufacture thirty thousand gal¬ 
lons of spirits of lavender, besides a large quantity, the total of which 
is unknown, to be used in the production of other perfumes with more 
pretentious names. This plant is at the best when between three 
years of age and seven. The harvest time is the first week in August. 
The flowers are then cut and taken to the distillery, followed by an 
innumerable number of bees, which insects are especially fond of them. 
Here the essential oil is pressed out, and is ready to be mixed with the 
proper ingredients to make lavender water. 




THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


THE POWER OP GROWTH. 

There is no human engineering which can compare in power with 
the silent machinery of a growing forest. It has been estimated that 
the physical energy of the sap in the plant is fourteen times that of 
the blood in man. Professor Clark, of the Massachusetts Agricul¬ 
tural College, has recently succeeded in measuring the power of 
'growth of a squash. He harnessed it in iron, put it in prison, and 
gave it a weight to lift. The squash, thus harnessed, was placed 
in a box in such a way that it could only grow by pushing upward, 
and lifting the long lever with the weights suspended on it. The 
result was that the squash steadily pushed its way upward, carrying 
the bar and weight with it. On Aug. 21 it was lifting 60 pounds, 
Sept. 15 it was lifting 1,400 pounds, Oct. 18, 3 ,i 2 ° pounds, Oct. 31, 
5,000 pounds. How much more it could have carried is not known, 
for at this point the iron harness cut into the rind of the squash, thus 
putting an end to the experiment. There is, to our imagination^ 
something grand in the thought of a force so vast, so almost incalcu¬ 
lable, exerted without noise, and apparently far exceeding the ordinary 
exigencies of the plant. In every acre of well-cultivated ground a 
power is silently at work which transcends man’s mightiest machines, 
by almost as much as the infinite transcends the finite .—Illustrated 
Christia 7 i Weekly. 



The prophetic picture in Scripture of a day when “ the heavens 
shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with 
fervent heat, the earth also, and the works that are therein shall be 
burned up,” has recently received a striking illustration, possibly 
verification. A brilliant star of the third magnitude made its appear¬ 
ance suddenly in the constellation of the Swan. Previous surveys of 
the heavens have been so t'norough and accurate as entirely to preclude 
the idea that this star could have previously existed in its then apparent 
size, and have escaped observation. Examinations with the spectroscope 
have led astronomers to the hypothesis that it was a sun like our own, 


POWER OF GROWTH IN VEGETABLE LIFE. 

























































































































































































































































































































































































































. 







* 














. 
















AND THE WISE. 


38S 


which, foi some unexplained leason, suddenly blazed up with several 
hundred times its former luster, and with a degree of heat which 
must have consumed its own planetary system, if it were the center of 
one. We speak of this as a recent phenomenon ; but, though only 
recently seen, it probably occurred some centuries ago, the light of 
this conflagration having taken that length of time to travel from the 
burning system to our own. Of course this does not prove that a 
similar catastrophe will bring the world’s drama to a tragic end ; in¬ 
deed, thus far these blazing suns have not been discovered in our region 
of the heavens ; but it at least illustrates the possibility of a very literal 
interpretation of the Biblical prophecies concerning the world’s future 
destruction. 



HAT assertion will make one believe that in one second of 
time—one beat of the pendulum of a clock—a ray of light 
travels over 155,000 miles, and would, therefore, perform the 
tour of the world in about the same time it requires to wink 
with our eyelids, and in much less time than a swift runner 
occupies in taking a single stride? 

What mortal can be made to believe, without demonstration, 
that the sun is over a million times larger than the earth, and so far 
from us that a cannon-ball shot directly toward it, and maintaining its 
full speed, would be twenty years in reaching it; yet the sun affects 
the earth appreciably, by its attraction, in an instant of time? 

Who would not ask for demonstration, when told that a gnat’s 
wing, in its ordinary flight, beats many hundred times in a second? 
Or that there exist animated and regularly-organized beings, many 
thousands of whose bodies, laid together, would not cover the space 
of an inch? But what are these to the astonishing truths which 
modern optical inquiries have disclosed, and which teach that every 
point of a medium through which a ray of light passes is affected 
with a succession of periodical movements, regularly recurring at 
equal intervals, no less than five hundred millions of millions of times 
25 








386 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


in a single second? That it is by such movements, communicated to 
the nerves of the eye, that we are enabled to see; nay, more, that it is 
the difference in the frequency of diversity of color? That, for in¬ 
stance, in acquiring the sensation of redness, our eyes are affected 
four hundred and eighty-two millions of millions of times; of yellow¬ 
ness, five hundred and forty-two millions of times; and of violets, 
seven hundred and seven millions of millions of times per second? 

Do not such things sound more like the ravings of madmen, than 
sober conclusions of people in their waking sense? They are, never¬ 
theless, conclusions to which any one may certainly arrive, who will 
only be at the trouble of examining the chain of reasoning by which 
they have been obtained. It is worthy of examination. 

—— 


THE MOON IS A DEAD WORLD . 

Beautiful to the eye of the distant observer, the moon is a sepul¬ 
chral orb, a world of death and silence. No vegetation clothes its 
vast plain of stony desolation, traversed by monstrous crevasses, 
broken by enormous peaks, that rise like gigantic tombstones into 
space; no lovely forms of cloud float in the blackness of its sky. 
There daytime is only night lighted by a rayless sun. There is no 
rosy dawn in the morning, no twilight in the.evening. The nights 
are pitch dark. The rocks reflect passively the light of the sun; the 
craters and abysses remain wrapped in shade; fantastic peaks rise like 
phantoms in their glacial cemetery; the stars appear like spots in 
the blackness of space. The moon is a dead world. She has no 
atmosphere.—-S'. S. Conant. 


•■U —= 4 * 


Prof. Cornu, of the “Ecole Polytechnique,” Paris, who has here¬ 
tofore made many experiments on the velocity of light, has recently 
perfected a new instrument for determining this velocity. This instru¬ 
ment has an electrical registering apparatus, and it is thought that 
more accurate results can be obtained with it than with the well- 



AND THE WISE. 


387 


known toothed-wheel apparatus of Figeau. Foucault fixed the 
velocity ol light with his instrument at 185,157 miles per second. 
Cornu, with his new instrument, fixes the velocity of light at 186,660 
miles pei second, or 1,503 per second faster than Foucault. 

WHA T THE MICROSCOPE REVEALS . 

Mold is a forest of beautiful trees, with the branches, leaves and 
fruit. 

Butterflies are fully feathered. 

Hairs are hollow tubes. 

The surface ot our bodies is covered with scales like a fish; a single 
grain of sand would cover one hundred and fifty of these scales, and 
yet a scale covers five hundred pores. Through these narrow open¬ 
ings the perspiration forces itself, like water through a sieve. 

Each drop of stagnant water contains a world of living creatures, 
swimming with as much liberty as whales in the sea. 

Each leaf has a colony of insects grazing it, like a cow in a 
meadow.— Exchaiige. 



These little creatures are so well known that it is not important 
to say much about them. Lovely little creatures they are, of the Pike 
family, which have taken to the open sea, where they rise with a 
stroke of the tail many feet out of the water, their bright purple 
backs and sides gleaming in the sun, as, with their long transparent 
arm-fins outspread they fly for as much as two hundred yards before 
they fall back, to spring up again with another stroke. As one-half 
of creation lives on the other half, so these bird-fish have their special 
enemies, of which, perhaps, the Dorados, a larger fish, are chief. 






















388 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 



y.fHO has not heard of 
this wonderful little 
"j<* u Ship of Pearl,” which 
can frequently be seen 
in the Atlantic in large 
numbers, when the sea is calm, 
sailing jauntily along? It is 
much like a little globe partly 
submerged, with a projection on each side like a prow and 
rudder. On the summit is the sail, an elegant double-frill, 
sometimes white, sometimes bright Vermillion. From the 
under side depend the tasseled-silk tentacles, which to touch 
is next to death, for, like all the lasso-throwers, they poison 
whatever living thing they touch. It is easy to reach and 
grasp these beautiful sailors, but none ever attempt it the 
second time. All will be interested in the beautiful illustra- 

• °--'cC "%>——• 

A FISH THAT BUILDS WESTS . 

Not exactly in the branches of trees, but in the beds of 
rivers, where he makes a little hollow in the ground, then 
builds it up with twigs and sticks just like a bird, cementing 
and making it all solid with a sort of slime which his own 


















































































































AND THE WISE. 


389 


body furnishes. Into this little nest ther the mother fish enters, lays 
her eggs in bird-like fashion, over which, the warm currents brooding, 
they are presently hatched out. No inhabitants of the sea are more 
interesting in their habits than these bird-fish. They are the stickle¬ 
backs. 


§— 






A NIMROD AMONG THE FISHES . 

He is not a beauty. But surely we must not forget to mention 
him, being nothing more nor less than a fish who fishes for a living. 
He is no better than his betters, who stand on the shore, and fish 
with a barbed hook concealed within some toothsome morsel; for 
although he does not use a barbed hook, his pastime is even more 
delusive and deadly to the fish themselves. See now where, among 
the reeds, lies half concealed this always hungry vampire of the sea. 
It would seem that he does not need to employ any artifice to secure 
his dinner. He is large enough and strong enough to successfully 
attack any ordinary fish, being fully three feet long, half that in 
diameter, and has a mouth with a breadth and expansion of at least two 
feet. But he is too lazv to fight until he has every advantage on his 
side. On top of his great head is a little erect something, like a 
fishing-rod, from which depends a little line, with a limpet on the 
end for bait. Gracefully this is permitted to wave in front of some 
unwary herring, or other fry, until, decoyed within reach, the cavern¬ 
ous mouth receives him in, to go no more out forever. This is the 
Angler or Fishing Frog. Fie catches and actually swallows fish as 
large as himself. 


OYSTERS GROWING ON TREES . 

This is not altogether a traveler’s fable. In tropical countries 
abounds a tree called the Mangrove. It is in itself one of the mar¬ 
vels of vegetation. It is shaped and grows like any tree, except that 
its trunk is sustained in air many feet by its roots. Thus you see its 
roots make a large tent under the trunk. Well, when the tide goes 
out, the roots and trunk of the tree are often found covered with 
oysters and other mollusks. Query: Does this make them vegetable 
oysters? Not much. 







890 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 



Nearly everybody has heard about the Sea-Horse, but not so many 
have heard of the Sea-Cow. Not to any waters which beat against 
our own shores are they native, but along the east coast of Africa and 
the west coast of South America are they found. This kind is known 
as Manatees, while still another kind, called the Dugongs, are found 
in the Indian Ocean and along the coasts of Australia. These gentle 
creatures do not live like other fish, but graze along the meadows of 
the sea, very much like our own Jerseys in land pastures, and quite as 
harmless. Some think that these Sea-Cows are what have given rise 
to the popular stories about mermaids, for our Sea Bossy is a true 
milk-giver, and when, with her nursing baby clasped to her breast, 
she rises partly out of the water, she looks not wholly unlike a human 
being. Huxley thinks that long, long ages ago, the Manatees and 
Dugongs must have lived exclusively on land; but changed conditions 
of life have finally made the sea their home. 









Far down in the deep abysses of the tropic seas, dwell forms of 
things we seldom or never see at the surface. There, on the very 
floor of the ocean, it is always dark night, and such gloom as we 
never know in this upper world. On all around the waters press 
with a weight of many tons, and if one of those deep-sea rovers 
should suddenly appear at the surface, he would burst asunder with 
inward pressure. These gloomy “ travelers of the sea” dwell not 
altogether in utter darkness, for nature has provided them with lights 
of their own,—phosphorescent bodies and fins, which illumine the 
deeps with a weird and ghastly light. Thus they move about like 
miners with lamps on their heads. There swim the phosphorescent 
Bombay Duck, the Scopelus, and the Beryx; and there, too, swims 
the beautiful Ribbon Fish, twenty feet long, and the Stomias, with its 
rows of gleaming lights,— Beauties , and marvels , and monsters all . 










AND THE WISE 


391 



ImNE of the most exquisitely beautiful of marine objects is the 
I™ celebrated Argonaut, or paper Nautilus, so called because of 
the extieme thinness of its shell. Ot its famous sailing pow¬ 
ers that Darwin of the ancients—Aristotle—says: “The 



BEAUTIFUL AND WONDER* UL— THE JELLY-BELL. 


nautilus is of the nature of animals which pass for extraordinary, 
for it can float on the sea; it raises itself from the bottom of 
the water, the shell being reversed and empty, but when it 
reaches the surface it readjusts it. It has between the arms a 













































392 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 



species of tissue, similar to that which unites the toes of web¬ 
footed birds; when there is a little wind, it employs this tissue as 
a sort of sail.” Until recently all accounts represented it as using its 
delicate shell for a boat, its tentacles for oars, and its expanded mantle 
as a sail. The truth, however, is strange enough, without having 
recourse to fiction. It is impossible to realize, without seeing, the 
beauty of this dainty creature. It appears a mass of silver, with a 
cloud of spots of a most beautiful rose-color, and a fine dotting of the 
same, which heightens its beauty. A long semi-circular band of 

ultramarine blue, which melts 
away insensibly, very decidedly 
marks one of its extremities, 
known as the keel. Thus it ap¬ 
pears more like a fairy in a boat 
of unearthly and enchanting 
beauty, as it floats upon a sum¬ 
mer sea, than the unattractive 
form which its preserved corpse 
exhibits in alcohol. But now as 
to the way in which it actually 
does move: When it is taking 
a leisurely stroll, it walks upon 
its head—that is, when on the 
sea bottom, withdrawing its body 
as much and as far as possible 
into its shell, it turns itself in 
such a manner as to rest upon 
its head, and, using its arms to 

LONG HAIRED AND BONNETED MEDUSA. Walk UpOIl, Cl'eepS 

sometimes taking a strong hold with its cup-like suckers on 
some projecting rock, and swinging itself from one projection to 
another. At other times, desiring a swifter mode of progression, it 
extends its six arms in parallel straight lines, and squirts itself along 
backward like a flash of light, by violently ejecting water from a tube 
which projects beneath its outstretched bundle of arms. And now 
we are ready for Holmes’ beautiful poem entitled— 


slowly along, 











AND THE WISE 


393 



BY O. W. HOLMES. 

m/lilS is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, 

Sails the unshadowed main,— 

The venturous bark that flings 
On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings 
In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings, 

And coral reefs lie bare, 

Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair. 



m 

u 


v.; 


Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl: 
v Wrecked is the ship of pearl! 

And every chambered cell, 

Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, 
As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, 
Before thee lies revealed— 

Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed! 


Year after year beheld the silent toil 
That spread his lustrous coil: 

Still, as the spiral grew, 

He left the past year’s dwelling for the new, 

Stole with soft step its shining archway through, 

Built up its idle door, 

Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more. 


Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, 

Child of the wandering sea, 

Cast from her lap forlorn! 

From thy dead lips a clearer note is born 
Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn! 

While on mine ear it rings, 

Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings/ 















394 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


“ Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, 

As the swift seasons roll! 

Leave thy low-vaulted past! 

Let each new temple, nobler than the last, 

Shut thee from heaven, with a dome more vast, 

Till thou at length art free, 

Leaving thine outgrown shell by life’s unresting sea! ” 


Here is a beauty of a different character. Ever since Victor 
Hugo, in “ Toilers of the Sea,” described the encounter of his hero 
with one of these monsters, unusual interest has been taken in the 
study of them. Many even then doubted whether such an anomaly 
existed; yet they are well described now in all scientific books. The 
arms are sometimes twenty-five or thirty feet long, with suckers the 
whole length. When it wraps these arms about its victim, there is 
no possible escape. When pursued, it ejects an inky cloud, under 
cover of which it escapes. This is the octopus, the worst monster 
of the sea of which we have any knowledge. 


.——°<S^(fO))))>^S>o-—• 


Placing the open oyster with its deep shell downward, and the 
rounded part toward you, you will find an opening in the right-hand 
corner near the hinge, and over it four thin lips. If you could watch 
the oyster alive, you would see that all the water passing over the 
gills flows toward this mouth, and the reason is made clear if you put 
a small piece of a gill in water under the microscope; for then you 
will see a whole forest of lashes, waving over the surface of the gills, 
like reeds in a stream, and striking toward where the mouth would 
be. By means of this action of these lashes* the oyster, as he lies 
gaping in the water, has a constant current flowing over him, which 
not only provides him with breath, but drives the helpless microscopic 
plants and animals past his thin lips, to be drawn in and swallowed. 







AND THE WISE. 


396 



PISH THAT GIVE SHOCKS. 


N a recent number of Lippincot? s Magazine , Mr. C. F. Holder, 
^ a writer for the Companion , gives some curious facts regarding 

1$ th ° Se fishes which have the power of communicating electric 
’W shocks. The electric qualities of the torpedo-fish have been 
known to naturalists 

for more than two 
hundred years. The 
fish contains a battery 
constructed on the 
principle of the Vol¬ 
taic pile, with a large 
number of cells, each 
of which is to all in¬ 
tents and purposes 
a Leyden jar. The 
shocks given are some¬ 
times strong enough 
to paralyze a healthy 
man. 

On old Brighton 
Beach a large torpedo 
or cramp-fish, was ex¬ 
hibited in a shallow 
water aquarium by an 
enterprising show¬ 
man, who proclaimed 
that a ha’penny would 
be accepted as a con¬ 
sideration for the priv¬ 
ilege of lifting the fish, and that a shilling would be given to 
any one who should lift it out of the tank bare-handed. This en¬ 
ticing offer was taken by numbers of muscular sojourners on the 
beach, but always resulted disastrously to the lifter, who, however, 
was unable to explain why he had failed. Another would step boldly 


A FLOWER THAT GROWS A THOUSAND FATHOMS DOWN. 








396 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


up with bared arms, insert one hand carefully under the fish, to see 
that it was not held down (just what the showman wished him to 
do), and place the other hand upon the torpedo’s back. Its queer 
eyes would wink, a convulsive movement followed, and the experi¬ 
menter would find himself either unable to move, or almost lifted 
into the air by the u heft” of the creature, and would fall back bewil¬ 
dered, amid the jeers and laughter of the crowd. 

The effect of the shock upon birds is generally fatal. A reed 
bird placed in the water over a torpedo showed symptoms of fear 
almost immediately, and in less than two minutes dropped dead. 
Although the torpedo does not heed its own shocks, and is used as an 
article of food on the Mediterranean coast, it is particularly sensible to 
shocks administered by a regular battery, and can thus be readily 
killed. Its power is hardly sufficient to kill a man, though I have 
been told by a reliable informant that he was almost completely 
paralyzed when spearing one, and on attempting to pull the iron from 
the fish he was knocked over as suddenly as if shot. Even after the 
death of the torpedo, he could hardly hold the dissecting-knife, so 
intense were the shocks. 

The gymnotus, or electric eel, can also communicate a powerful 
shock. One was recently captured near Calabozo, which not only 
killed a mule, but so prostrated the rider by its terrible powers that 
his life was despaired of. An English traveler reached the spot a 
few days after the occurrence, and, learning the size of the monster, 
determined to catch it. It was finally hooked and dragged upon the 
shore. The line, however, becoming wet, the fish communicated to 
the two natives who were holding it such a shock that they were 
utterly powerless to move. The Englishman rushed forward, cut the 
rope with a knife, and released the men, but received a shock himself. 
The fish was finally secured, and a load of shot sent into its head. 
The men then took hold of its tail to drag it to the bank above, when 
they were knocked over as if by an axe, and nothing could induce 
them to touch it again. Not till three days after, when decomposition 
had probably set in, was it dragged from the shore and suspended 
from a tree and skinned. These gigantic eel-like creatures are most 
forbidding in appearance, varying from six to twenty-two feet in 
length, having the same relative size throughout their entire length. 


AND THE WISE. 


S97 


More than nine other fishes are known to be electricians of more 
or less power, but little is known of their methods of using their 
curious means of defence. 


A FREE RIDE. 

Far out in the deep sea is a fish about the size of a mackerel, 
called the Remora. Upon his head he wears a large flat jolate, the 
upper surface of which acts like a great sucker. Gliding under a 
shark’s belly, the body of a whale, or even a ship, he presses the 
damp membrane against the surface, and thus clings as firmly as a 
blood-sucker. Thus he gets a free ride. And neither the shark, nor 
the whale, nor even the ship, seem to mind it in the least. 




A SEA BEAUTY. 

But here is one every bit as pretty as the Nautilus, it looks more 
as if it were made to sail in the air than the ocean. The little bubble 
is a kind of jelly-fish, called the jelly-bell. It has a harder and more 
scientific name, which we needn’t bother about just now. It swims 
gaily along on the ocean waves, by driving water in and out of the 
hole in the jelly-veil, spread across the mouth of the dome. Any¬ 
thing to exceed their beauty and delicacy can scarcely be imagined. 
Now, reader, how large do you suppose the creature is? Well, a 
wine-glass would hold about 3,000. And yet, each one is as peifect 
as if it weighed a ton. That is a way nature has of slighting 
nothing. See illustration on page 39 



The voyager in tropical seas will be delighted by shoals of fishes 
flashing in the sunlight twenty feet above the surface in perfect 
exuberance of joy. They are found in the warmer parts of the 
Atlantic, as also in the Mediterranean. They skim rapidly along, and 
have actually the appearance of flying; from the fact that theii pectoial 
fins are so large that they are sustained by them m short flights. 







S98 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 



TOO NUMEROUS 


TO MENTION. 




But it is quite out of the question to make an end of enumerating 

the wonders of the deep. There are the little 
Infusoria. One drop of water would hold mill¬ 
ions, yet every one is a perfect animal; there 
is the Musical Coral, which grows in forms like 
the pipes of an organ; the Sea Anemones, 
which are beautiful flowers in appearance, but 
animals in fact; the long-haired Medusa, with 
its bonnet like a maiden’s; the Sea Urchin, 
which resembles nothing so much as a chestnut 
burr; the Razor-shell, which, by a little motion, 
bores a hole for itself in the ocean floor, though 
that floor be granite-rock; the little Sea-horse, 
which is a veritable horse in the appearance of 
its head at least; the Sea-raven, which is cer¬ 
tainly the ugliest looking animal imaginable; 
the Hammer-headed shark; the Basket-fish, a 
basket in appearance, and nothing more; the 
Sea-cucumber, a real cucumber, and yet a fish; 
the Dandy-Spider, which decorates his head 
with the brilliant colored sea-grasses; and 
multitudes of other living creatures no less 
wonderful; to say nothing of the sea-grasses 
themselves, which grow many hundreds of 
feet high from the sea floor below to the 

world of light above, as If they would A norgan, built by the corals. 
climb to the very heaven, if they could only have the salt sea 
to do it in. 


THE THORNY SEA-PEN—AN 
ANIMAL. 








©\lVo7£oer& tPie 3^ arr ^/ eH’ea^erb&. 





3 &> 


-<*-< 



We are permitted to make the following beautiful extracts from 
the works of Rev. E. F. Burr : 


ORDER IS HEAVEN'S Eli 



^HESE are the systems, into which all the heavenly bodies 
are arranged: 

i. A body, not self-luminous, has one or more like 

(£7j\S bodies revolving around it. There are many such systems, 
which we will call satellite-systems . Our earth and its moon are one. 

2. Several of these primary systems form a still larger neighbor¬ 
hood, and revolve about a self-luminous body, like the sun. There 
are many such systems, which we will call planet-systems. 

3. Several of these planet-systems form a still larger neighbor¬ 
hood, and revolve about a common point within it. There are 
many such systems, which we will call sun-systems. 

4. Several of these sun-systems form a neighborhood still larger, 
and circulate about one point within it. There are many such systems, 
which we will call group-systems. 

5. Several of these group-systems unite in a still larger neighbor¬ 
hood, and in revolving about a common point within it. There are 
many such systems, which we will call cluster-systeins. 

6. Several of these cluster-systems combine into another system 
still.grander, whose center of motion is also common to all its mem¬ 
bers. There are many such systems, which we will call nebula, 
systems. 

7. Finally, all the systems of space, composing one great neigh¬ 
borhood that embrace all other neighborhoods, revolve around one 

motion-center of the creation. This we will call the universe-system. 

[ 399 ] 


















400 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


THE YEARS OP THE PLANETS. 

^jl^OW long are the members of our system in traveling around 
the sun ? We find the period of Mercury to be three months, 
of Venus seven months, of the earth one year, of Mars two 
years, of Jupiter twelve, of Saturn twenty-nine, of Uranus 
eighty-four, of Neptune one hundred and sixty-four. Ask that man 
of silver hairs how old he is. Eighty-four years, does he say ? 
Then he was born when Uranus was last at its present point 
in its orbit—the point where Sir William Herschel was then find¬ 
ing it. The child, whose fresh, dewy orbs to-day look up 
wonderingly at the spangled vault where Neptune hides itself, 
will have grown up, fought life’s battle, grown old, died, and 
lain in his grave a hundred years, by the time that frontier planet is 
able to get around again to its present place in the sky ! According 
to the Neptunian calendar, it is only thirty-six years since the creation 
of Adam! But even such years are trifling when compared with 
those of some comets. What think you of a voyage about the sun re¬ 
quiring four thousand of your years for its completion ? The comet 
of i8ii,when it last saw the earth, saw it yet dripping with the 
waters of the flood; the comet of 16S0, when it last saw the earth, saw 
it without form and void, and prophesying but faintly of an Eden and 
an Adam still three thousand years distant. When it sees the earth 
again, where shall we be—ourselves, our homes, our cities, our race ? 
May Heaven grant that the next nine thousand years shall suffice to 
prepare for exhibition to the gaze of that mighty voyager, the pre¬ 
dicted new heavens and new earth in which shall dwell righteousness. 




SOME WONDERFUL VELOCITIES . 

See now the wonderful velocities that must prevail among some of 
these great bodies! Knowing their mean distances from the sun and 
their periods, we readily calculate their average hourly pace on their 
orbits. Mercury moves one hundred and nine thousand miles an 
hour. Venus eighty thousand, Earth sixty-eight thousand, Neptune 











AND THE WISE. 


401 


eleven thousand, the comet of 16S0, at its fastest, eight hundred and 
e ighty-four thousand miles an hour. We have wondered at the great 
pace of the eagle, of the winds, of the cannon-ball, of the moon, with 
her fifty-four thousand miles a day; and yet the moon, on her monthly 
journey about us, is but an indifferent traveler compared with the most 
leisurely of the planets. They all seem as if on some urgent errand— 
some errand of life and death. When one is resting his weary body 
from a third to a half of his whole time, and happens to think of the 
tremendous and remorseless activity of those great revolving spheres, 
he is discontented with himself What miraculous fleetness! What 
if those flying orbs should, through some want of balance in the sys¬ 
tem, encounter each other in mid-heaven! 



A TWELVE THOUSAND FOLD SUN 

The Sirius system is equal in light to sixty-three of our suns ; the 
Pole-Star system to eighty-six. In each of these, the two stars com¬ 
posing the system differ exceedingly from each other in brightness, and 
the larger star must be credited with most of the brilliancy. Think of 
an eighty-fold sun! However, some stars are still more astonishing; 
Vega, for example, which blazes with the might of three hundred and 
forty-four suns ; Capella, for example, which blazes with the light of 
four hundred and thirty; Arcturus, for example, which blazes with the 
light of five hundred and sixteen; Alcyone, for example, which blazes 
with the light of twelve thousand! As we have seen, our sun is no 
trifle. Its astonishing orb would nearly fill the whole lunar orbit; 
and would weigh down, eight hundred times over, its whole ponder¬ 
ous cortege of satellites, planets, and comets. And yet it is only one 
of the lesser lights of space. Not the smallest, indeed—forbid it, little 
61 Cygni—but still a mere rush-light and glow-worm as compared 
with many of the huge luminaries which pour their glories adown the 
immensity of nature. It could not remain visible a moment in the pres¬ 
ence of such golden-haired and majestic day-kings as even Sirius and 
Polaris, to say nothing of those huger monarchs whose effulgence 
floods the celestial spaces. 

26 

♦ 




/THE BEAUTIFULt, THE WONDERFUL, 


4Q2 

THE BEAUTIFUL PLELABES. 

Look at the famous and beautiful Pleiades! Gathered about the 
brightest star of the group, Alcyone, the telescope sees fourteen con¬ 
spicuous stars. These are all creeping along the sky, equally fast and 
in the same direction. The calculus of probabilities assures us that 
the chances are hundi'eds of millions to one against their being merely 
optically connected. They form one grand astronomical neighborhood 
in space, around whose center of gravity they all revolve; one grand 
company of celestial navigators, exploring their way by unerring in¬ 
stinct, without chart or compass, through trackless space. The distance 
of this group-system from us has been determined by the determina¬ 
tion of the distance of Alcyone; and is twentv-five million diameters 
of the earth’s orbit. Were the Pleiades this moment blotted out of 
existence, they would still blaze away in the neck of Taurus for more 
than seven hundred years; for that is the time spent by light in pass¬ 
ing from that system to us. 


•--■ 

THE CENTER OF MOTION OF ALL THE HEAVENLY 

BODIES . 

What is the center of motion of all the heavenly bodies? Astron¬ 
omers have sought to answer this question, and apparently not in 
vain. By methods which can not now be explained, it is found that 
Alcyone—most beautiful star of the beautiful Pleiades—is the center 
of our motion; and that we are moving about it at the rate of more 
than thirty-three millions of miles a year, on an orbit whose diameter 
is fifty million times larger than that on which we move about the 
sun. As the distance of Alcyone is approximately known, we can 
find our period. It is only about twenty millions of years. 

Such is our sun’s center of motion. And the celebrated Maedler 
has shown that it is also the center of a great number of other suns— 
in fact, that the proper motions of the stars in all quarters of the 
heavens conform to the idea that they are spurring in glorious cur¬ 
riculum around the same point. He concludes that Alcyone is the 
center of the whole nebulas. 



AND THE WISE. 


403 


A WONDERFUL THING PASSING IN THE HE A FENS. 

A wonderful thing has been noticed in that part of the heavens 
that is now passing over our meridian southward from the zenith; the 
region occupied by Orion, the river Po, Sirius, and especially the 
Dove. It has been noticed that the stars in this region are gradually 
drawing together, just as the ships of a fleet would seem to do to one 
sailing away from them; while at the opposite quarter of the sky the 
stars are gradually separating, just as the ships of another fleet would 
seem to do to one sailing toward them. Great Hercules is yearly 
becoming huger and brawnier; his club, and especially his bow, 
growing every year more formidable. This has been going on now 
fora great number of years. Of course, there is but one explanation. 
Our sun, with its retainer-worlds about it, is sailing away through 
space toward Hercules, on an orbit so vast that the part of it which 
has been described from the date of the earliest accurate observations, 
does not differ sensibly from a straight line. At last, however, we shall 
double the wondrous cape of our great ellipse; and then the dove will 
begin to expand and plume her heavenly wings, while champion Her¬ 
cules will dwarf behind us. 




A UNIVERSE SYSTEM AT LAST 

Eighteen million suns belong to our firmament. More than four 
thousand such firmaments are visible; and every increase of telescopic 
power adds to the number. Where are the frontiers—the last astro¬ 
nomical system—that remote spot beyond which no nebula, no world, 

o-litters on the black bosom of eternal nothingness? Probably, some 
© 

one of those many nebulae just brought into faint view by the great 
reflector at R.osse Castle, is but another A.ndromeda, which, though 
visible to the naked eye, gives no sign of being resolved into stars 
by an instrument of four hundred times the eyes space-penetiating 
power. Think of the distance expressed by four hundred times the 
distance of the milky way of Andromeda—five millions of years, as 
flies the light! Alas, how feeble are our powers! How they labor 
and bow under the weight of such mighty numbers—such gates of 





404 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL. 


Gaza! What wondrous chronometers those must be which would 
take fitting account of the ongoings of such far-off firmaments! Could 
you stand, with a wand in your hand reaching to that remotest galaxy, 
and sweep it around you in every direction, what an empire fit for a 
Jehovah would fall within the embrace of those glorious circles! And 
yet who shall say that even this is the whole astronomical universe? 
What right have we to stop just where the power of our instruments 
happens for the moment to have stopped, and say, “This is the end— 
these are the Pillars of Hercules? Turn back, O adventurous ex¬ 
plorer—nothing but night and void in this direction—thou hast reached 
the last outpost of the kingdom of the Eternal ! NE PLUS 
ULTRA !” No ; thrice no. On, still through peopled infinitude, 
through reigning galaxies and tornado-nebulae; and, while thou goest 
outward still through the charging, storming hosts of suns as 
long as thought can fly, or angels live, say ever to thyself, “ Lo, 
these are parts of his ways ; but how little a portion is heard of Him ! 
The thunder of His power, who can understand ?” 



( 

























































7T 




WILLING TO DIE FOE ME. 






_ L ) -»-«o<>o« 


r is related of an ancient King, Tigranes, that on one occasion a 
subject was brought before him who had been the leader of a 
IJp formidable rebellion. The prisoner was attended by his wife 
and aged parents, all of whom supposed that the sentence of death 
would be pronounced upon them. Touched by their grief, Tigranes 
said to the man: “ What would you give, if the lives of your 
parents might be spared?” The man mentioned a large amount 
of treasure that was concealed in a certain place, and said that he 
would give the whole of that. “ What would you give,” continued 
the King, “if the life of your wife could be spared?” “To save 
her,” said the man, “ I would give my own life.” The whole party 
were, however, pardoned, and when the King had retired, the man 
said to his wife: “ Did you observe the magnificence of the King’s 

apparel, and the dignity of his bearing?” “No,” replied the wife, “I 
saw only the man who was willing to die for me”—Chaplain 
Me Cabe. 


The man had not been able to pay his debts. The mortgage on 
the farm had been foreclosed. Day of sale had come. The sheriff 
stood on a box reading the terms of vendue. All payments to be 
made in six months. The auctioneer took his place. The old man 
and his wife, and the children all cried, as the piano, and the chairs, 
and the pictures, and the carpets, and the bedsteads, went at half their 
worth. When the piano went it seemed to the old people as if the 
sheriff were selling all the fingers that ever played on it, and when the 
carpets were struck off, I think father and mother thought of the little 
feet that had tramped them, and when the bedstead was sold it brought to 

407 








308 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


mind the bright curly heads that had slept on it long before the dark 
days had come, and father had put his name on the back of a note, 
signing his own death-warrant. The next thing to being buried 
alive is to have the sheriff sell you out when you have been honest, 
and tried always to do right. There are so many envious ones to 
chuckle at your fall, and come in to buy your carriage, blessing the 
Lord that the time has come for you to walk, and for them to ride.— 
T. De Witt Talmage. 



Why Some People are Poor. 



»0 ' 5 > 

{§1 ILVER spoons are used to scrape kettles. 

Coffee, tea, pepper, and spices are left to stand open and 


lose their strength. 


Potatoes in the cellar grow, and the sprouts are not re- 


^ moved until the potatoes become worthless. 

Brooms are never hung up and are soon spoiled. 

Nice handled knives are thrown into hot water. 

The flour is sifted in a wasteful manner, and the bread-pan is left 
with the dough sticking to it. 

Clothes are left on the line to whip to pieces in the wind. 

Tubs and barrels are left in the sun to dry and fall apart. 

Dried fruits are not taken care of in season, and become wormy. 
Rags, strings, and paper are thrown into the fire. 

Pork spoils for want of salt, and beef because the brine wants 


scalding. 


Bits of meat, vegetables, bread, and cold puddings are thrown 
away, when they might be warmed, steamed, and served as good 
as new. 



SENSE THAN NONSENSE , AFTER ALE 


Most people are like an egg, too phull ov themselves to hold enny- 
thing else. 

There is nothing so delishus tew the soul ov man az an okasional 
moment ov sadness. 




AND THE WISE. 


409 


Curiosity iz the germ ov all enterprises—men dig for woodchucks 
more for curiosity, than they do for woodchucks. 

If i want tew git at the trew karakter ov a man, i studdy his vizes 
more than i du his virtews. 

Those who expekt tew keep themselves pure in this life must 
keep their souls bileing all the time, like a pot, and keep all the time 
skimming the surface. 

What a blessed thing it is that we kant “see ourselves az others 
see us,”—the sight would take all the starch out ov us. 

Thare iz lots ov pholks in this wurld who kan keep nine out ov 
ten ov the commandments without enny trouble at all, but the one 
that is left they kant keep the small end ov. 

Thare iz lots ov folks in this wurld whom yu kan bio up like a 
bladder, and then kik them as high az yu plez. 

I have alwus notissed one thing, that when a cunning man burns 
hiz fingers, everybody hollers for joy. 

I sumtimes distinguish between talent and genius in this way: A 
man of talent kan make a whissel out ov a pig’s tale, but it takes a 
man ov genius to make the tale. 

I kant tell now whether a goose stands on one leg so much is to rest 
the goose. I wish some scientific man would tell me all about this. 

I had rather be a child again than to be the autokrat ov the world. 

There is numerous individuals in the land who look upon what 
they hain’t got az the only thing worth havin. 

A fu branes in a man’s hed are az noisy as shot in a blown up 
bladder. 

One man ov genius to 97 thousand four hundred and 42 men ov 
talent iz just about the right perporshun for actual bizzness. 

Ventilashun is a good thing, but when a man kant lay down in a 
10 aker lot without taking down lengths of fence to let the wind in, 
he iz altogether too airish. 

I think that a hen who undertakes to lay 2 eggs a day must neces¬ 
sarily neglekt sum other branch ov bizzness. 

Thare iz menny a slip between a cup and a lip, but not haf az 

menny az thare ought tew be. 

The two most important words in enny language are the shortest, 
“ Yes” and “ No.” 


410 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


Rather than not hav faith in ennything, I am willing to be beat 
nine times out ov io. 

I don’t never hev enny troubble in regulating mi own condukt, 
but tew keep other pholks straight iz what bothers me.— Josh 
Billings . 



A 

NAVAL officer being at sea in a dreadful storm, his wife 
^ > sitting in the cabin near him, filled with alarm for the safety 
of the vessel, was so surprised at his serenity and composure, 
^ ia *- she cried out: 

“ My dear, are you not afraid? How is it possible you can be so 
calm in such a dreadful storm?” 

He rose from his chair, dashed it to the deck, drew his sword, and 
pointing it at the breast of his wife, exclaimed: 

“Are you afraid?” 

She immediately answered, “ No.” 

“ Why?” said the officer. 

“ Because,” replied the wife, “ I know that the sword is in the 
hands of my husband, and he loves me too well to hurt me.” 

‘ Then,” said he, M I know in whom I believe, and He who holds 
the wind in His hand is my Father.” 


STICK TO IT A ED SUCCEED . 

Perseverance is the main thing in life. To hold on and hold out 
to the end, is the chief matter. if the race could be won by a spurt, 
thousands would wear the blue ribbon; but they are short-winded, and 
pull up after the first gallop. They begin with flying, and end in 
crawling backward. When it comes to the collar work, many take 
to jibing. 

If the apple does not fall at the first shake of the tree, your hasty 
folks are too lazy to fetch a ladder, and in too much of a hurry to 
wait till the fruit is ripe enough to fall of itself. The hasty man is as 
hot as fire at the onset, and as cold as ice at the end. He is like the 










AND THE WISE. 


411 

irishman’s saucepan, which had many good points about it, but it had 
no bottom. He who cannot bear the burden and heat of the day, is 
not worth the salt, much less his potatoes. 

We ought not to be put out of heart by difficulties; they are sent 
on purpose to try the stuff we are made of, and depend upon it, they 
do us a world of good. There’s a reason why there are bones in our 
meat, and stones in our land. A world where everything was easy 
would be a nursery for babies, but not at all a fit place for men. 
Celery is not sweet till it has felt a frost, and men don’t come to their 
perfection till disappointment has dropped a half a hundred weight or 
two on their toes.— Anonymous . 




^ ->-< 0 » ■■ ■- I 

JjpjORAL courage was printed in large letters and put as the 
caption of the following items, and placed in a conspicuous 
place on the door of a systematic merchant in New York, 
for constant reference: 

Have the courage to discharge a debt while you have the money 



in your pocket. 

Have the courage to speak your mind when it is necessary that 
you should do so, and hold your tongue when it is prudent that you 
should do so. 

Have the courage to speak to a friend in a “ seedy” coat, even 
though you are in company with a rich one, and lichly attiied. 

Have the courage to own you are poor, and thus disarm poverty 


of its sharpest sting. 

Have the courage to tell a man why you refuse to ciedit him. 
Have the courage to tell a man why you will not lend him youi 


money. 

Have the courage to cut the most agreeable acquaintance you have 
when you are convinced that he lacks principle; a friend should bear 

with a friend’s infirmities, but not with his vices. 

Have the courage to show your respect for honesty, in whatever 







412 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


guise it appears, and your contempt for dishonesty and duplicity, by 
whomsoever exhibited. 

Have the courage to wear your old clothes until you can pay for 
new ones. 

Have the courage to prefer comfort and propriety to fashion, in 
all things. 

Have the courage to acknowledge your ignorance, rather than to 
seek for knowledge under false pretences. 

Have the courage, in providing an entertainment for your friends, 
not to exceed your means. 

Have the courage to insure the property in your possession, and 
thereby pay your debts in full. 

Have the courage to obey your Maker at the risk of being ridi¬ 
culed by man .—New York Star. 



It was in the old Saint’s chapel at Nuremburg, that the King of 
Sweden, pointing to a massive bronze statue, inquired: “And whose 
monument is this?” “ This,” replied the guide, “ is to the memory of 
the great St. Sebald.” “And who is the builder?” inquired the 
King. “ Peter Vischer, the old Nuremburg founder in bronze.” 
“ Say, then,” replied the King, “ that this monument is to the mem¬ 
ory of Peter Vischer, for his memory shall live long after the old 
Saint is forgotten.”— Scribner's Monthly. 


INGERSOLL ON INTEMPERANCE. 

In a recent letter to an Indiana paper, Col. Robert G. Ingersoll 
says that the only “ temperance speech” he ever made, was in what 
was known as the Munn trial in Chicago, when he made these few 
remarks on alcohol: “ I believe, gentlemen, that alcohol to a certain 
degree, demoralizes those who make it, those who sell it, those who 
drink it. I believe that from the time it issues from the coiled and 
poisoned worm of the distillery until it empties into the hell of crime, 


AND THE WISE 


413 


dishonor, and death, it demoralizes everybody that touches it, from its 
source to its ends. I do not believe that anybody can contemplate the 
subject without becoming prejudiced against that liquid crime. All 
we have to do, gentlemen, is to think of the wrecks upon either bank 
of this stream of death—of the suicides—of the insanity—of the 
poverty—of the ignorance—of the destitution—of the little chil¬ 
dren tugging at the faded dresses of weeping and despairing wives 
asking for bread—of the men of genius it has wrecked—of the mil¬ 
lions struggling with imaginary serpents produced by this devilish 
thing; and when you think of the jails, of the almshouses, of the 
asvlums, of the prisons, and of scaffolds upon either bank, I do not 
wonder that every thoughtful man is prejudiced against the damned 
stuff called alcohol.” 

SOMETHING NICE PROM EMERSON. 

Give me health and a day, and I will make the pomp of emperors 
ridiculous. The dawn is my Assyria; sunset and moonrise my 
Paphos, and unimaginable realms of faerae; broad noon shall be my 
England of the senses and the understanding; the night shall be my 
Germany of mystic philosophy and dreams .—Essay on Nature. 


- 0 v;c<>" 


-H* 


IN BEHALF OF THE CHILDREN. 




% 





IFE for some children is one perpetual “don’t. 


55 


Our sympathies were recently enlisted for Freddie, a lit¬ 
tle fellow of five, who had been kept within doors during a 
, long storm. His mother, a gentle woman, sat quietly sew¬ 
ing, as she chatted with a friend. “ Don’t do that, Freddie,” she said, 
as'the child’s whip handle beat a light tattoo on the carpet. The 
whip dropped. A block castle rose,—and fell, with a crash. “ Don’t 
make a noise, Freddie.” The boy turned to the window, the restless 
fingers making vague pictures on the damp pane. “ Don’t mark the 
window, Freddie,” interposed the mother; and “ Don’t go into the 
hall,” she added, as he opened the door to escape. The “ don ts con- 











THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


414 

tinued at brief intervals. At length the small man, seating himself 
with a pathetically resigned air, remained perfectly still for about a 
minute. Then, with a long-drawn sigh, he asked, “ Mamma, is 
there anything that I ca?i do? ” 

Sometimes “don’t” seems a mere mechanical utterance, unheeded 
by the child, unenforced by the parent. “ Don’t do that, my dear;” 
and the little girl, tossing over the fine engravings on a friend’s table, 
pauses an instant. The mother goes on talking with her friend, the 
child resumes her occupation, and no notice is taken of it, except, 
after a while, the prohibition is carelessly repeated, only to be ignored. 
A forgetful mother makes a forgetful child. Authority is weakened 
by reiterated commands. 

Too often the “ don’ts” are undeservedly sharp and short. Activity 
is the normal state of every healthy child; and half the reproofs he 
receives are really because he has no sufficient vent for his overflow¬ 
ing vitality. Excessive restraint irritates, and continual watching 
worries a child. His training must be efficient; but it should not so 
pursue his minutest acts as to keep him in a constant fear and fret, or 
lead him to depend upon his mother’s “ don’t ” as a guide. Broader 
instruction is needed; and a wide distinction should be made between 
thoughtful care and harassing watchfulness .—Mary Mayne . 




5 F I had leisure, I would repair that weak place in my fence,” 
said a farmer. He had none, however, and while drinking cider 
^ with a neighbor, the cows broke in, and injured a prime piece of 
He had leisure then to repair his fence, but it did not 



corn. 

bring back his corn. 


“ If I had leisure,” said a wheelwright, last winter, “ I would alter 
my stove-pipe, for I know it is not safe.” But he did not find time, 
and when his shop caught fire and burned down, he found leisure to 
build another. 

“ If I had leisure,” said a mechanic, “ I should have my work done 
in season.” The man thinks his time has been all occupied, but he 










AND THE WISE. 


W 


was not at work till after sunrise; he quit work at 5 o’clock, smoked 
a cigar after dinner, and spent two hours on the street talking non¬ 
sense with an idler. 

w If I had leisure,” said a merchant, “ I would pay more attention 
to my accounts, and try and collect my bills more promptly.” The 
chance is, my friend, if you had leisure you would probably pay less 
attention to the matter than you do now. The thing lacking with 
hundreds of farmers who till the soil is, not more leisure but more 
resolution,—the spirit to do, to do now. If the farmer who sees his 
fence in a poor condition would only act at once, how much might be 
saved! It would prevent breachy cattle creating quarrels among 
neighbors, that in many cases terminate in lawsuits, which take nearly 
all they are both worth to pay the lawyers. 

The fact is, farmers and mechanics have more leisure than they 
are aware of, for study and the improvement of their minds. They 
have the long evenings of winter, in which they can post themselves 
up in all the improvements of the day, if they will take ably-conducted 
agricultural journals and read them with care. The farmer who fails 
to study his business, and then gets shaved, has none but himself to 
blame.— Cor. IV. E. Earzzzer. 


•I 0 



T is as true on the lowest plane of life as on the highest, that 
according to a man’s faith, it will be unto him. His power in 
the world—his power over himself, his power over otheis, his 
power over difficulties,—may almost unvaryingly be measured 
by his convictions. If he believes something believes it with all his 
heart_he is a power in the direction of that belief. II he lacks con¬ 

victions; if he does not believe anything so positively that his belief 
has possession of him,—that it takes hold of his whole mind and soul, 
and makes him ready to do everything, to endure everything, and to 
dare everything in its behalf,—all the talents in the world will not 
make that man a great man, or enable him to accomplish a gieat 

work in the world. 

Peculiarly is it true that one’s power to influence others in thought 








416 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


depends on the positiveness of his convictions. The lawyer who can 
most completely identify himself with his client in opinion and feeling, 
is most likely to be successful as an advocate. The statesman who 
has profoundest convictions is surest of bringing others to see as he 
sees on any question which he discusses before the public. An editor 
can never hope to bring readers to his way of thinking until he has a 
way of thinking. His writings will never tell on popular thought 
while they lack the warmth and energy of a great purpose in their 
presentation. No minister is a truly effective preacher beyond his 
absolute convictions. Unless a truth has possession of him, he cannot 
make it possess others. 

Without convictions a man can neither be a full man, nor do the 
full work of a man. With convictions he can be and do,—to the 
extent of his unwavering beliefs and confidences. What do you 
believe? Are you confident that God has set you to declare his 
truth to this people; to superintend this Sunday-school wisely; to lead 
this class to Jesus; to train this child for a great work in his king¬ 
dom; to bring comfort and help to this friend; to arouse this compan¬ 
ion to a sense of personal need and duty? What are your convictions 
concerning God’s purposes and your privileges? Find out what you 
believe, and then give yourselves unreservedly to the work demanded, 
assured that according to your faith it will be unto you, and unto 
those to whom you minister.— Rev. H. Clay Trumbull, D. D. 

THE PERSON OP JESUS, 

Of all the great personages of history there is no one of whom so 
individual and living an idea may be had as of Jesus. For this reason: 
Because, brief and imperfect as they are, they are made up of just 
such particulars as always afford the most satisfactory insight into the 
stuff and quality of the person of whom they are related. In the 
free and progressive spirit which distinguishes Christendom, science 
is now advancing as never before. Theories of life are becoming pop¬ 
ular, which set at naught our old theologies, and are revolutionizing 
our modes of thought. In this state of things, what tongue can tell 
the worth of such a person as Jesus? The idea of Jesus, enshrined 




AND THE WISE. 


417 


within us by the aspirations it will kindle for the highest, will be a 
witness in our inmost consciousness of the invisible and everlasting;. 
Jesus so stirred the imagination alone, that for ages, poor peasant as 
he was, he has been held to be nothing less than the infinite God 
himself; and this, too, not in the absence of information concerning 
him, but in the face of facts showing him to have been a man, a 
tempted, suffering man. “Two things,” said the philosopher Kant, 
“fill me with awe; the starry heavens, and the sense of moral respon¬ 
sibility in man.” To these two I add a third,—filling the soul with 
faith and love and hope, as well as awe: “The person of Jesus.”— 
W. H. Furniss. 



ECONOMY AND DEBT. 


PURGEON’S plain talk on « Economy and Debt” ought to 
iSSl P astec * t ^ le h at °f every aspiring householder: “ Liv- 

ing beyond their incomes is the ruin of many of my neigh¬ 
bors; they can hardly afford to keep a rabbit and must needs 
drive a pony and chaise. I am afraid extravagance is the 
common disease of the times, and many professing Chiistians have 
caught it, to their shame and sorrow. Good cotton or stuff gowns are 
not good enough nowadays; girls must have silks, ana satins, and 
then there’s a bill at the dressmaker’s as long as a winter’s night, 
and quite as dismal. Show, and style, and smartness run away with 
a man’s means, keep the family poor, and the fathei s nose on the 
grindstone. Frogs try to look as big as bulls and burst themselves. 
He is both a fool and a knave who has a shilling coming in, and on 
the strength of it spends a pound which does not belong to him. Cut 
your coat according to your cloth, is sound advice; but cutting othei 
people’s cloth by running into debt is as like thieving as fourpence is 
like a groat. Debtors can hardly help being liars, for they promise to 
pay when they know they cannot, and when they have made up a 
lot of false excuses they promise again, and so they he as fast as a 
horse can trot. Now, if owing leads to lying, who shall say it is not 
a most evil thing? Of course, there are exceptions, and I do not want 
to bear hard upon an honest man who is brought down by sickness 01 
27 




418 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


heavy losses; but take the rule as a rule, and you will find debt to be 
a great dismal swamp, a huge mud hole, a dirty ditch; happy is the 
man who gets out of it after once tumbling in, but happiest of all is 
he who has been by God’s goodness kept out of the mire altogether. 
If you once ask the devil to dinner it will be hard to get him out of 
the house again. Better have nothing to do with him. Where a hen 
has laid one egg, she is very likely to lay another; when a man is 
once in debt, he is likely to get into it again; better keep clear of it 
from the first. He who gets in for a penny will soon be in for a 
pound, and when a man is over shoes, he is very liable to be over 
boots. Never owe a farthing, and you will never owe a guinea.” 




_ ®> 

HERE are many blessings which all enjoy, the value 
of which it is impossible to express in the ordinary represen¬ 
tative of value-money. There is a real value in pure air and 
pure water, in preserving the health, thereby saving the loss 
of time and power, and doctors’ and nurses’ bills. There are few 
occupations in which there are so many receipts difficult to record 
upon the ledger as in the farmer’s. With many, we doubt not, the real 
profit derived from farming is contained in these unestimated incomes. 
Some have kept what they considered accurate accounts of the costs 
of their crops, and the receipts therefrom, and found that they pretty 
nearly balanced, and yet they were not running in debt. The reason 
was probably because their families were enjoying so many benefits 
from the farm, of which they made no account. Let us consider 
some of these sources of income: 

1. The rent of his dwelling. If he lived in town, and occupied 
a tenement suited to his position, provided he retained the same rela¬ 
tive position in the best society, the rent would amount to several 
hundred dollars a year. 

2. The use of his horses and carriages. Every family in easy 
circumstances exjoects, of course, to go to church, to visit friends, to 











AND JPHE WISE. 


419 


attend places of instruction, or amusement, and visit places of trade, 
and many of these are too distant for convenient walking for towns¬ 
men as well as farmers. The farmer who uses his own team and car¬ 
riage saves a large bill for livery and omnibus, and car fares. This 
amounts to several hundred dollars a year with families of affluence 
in cities. 

3. Family supplies. We wish every farmer could know the 
entire value of food which his family consumes annually, estimated at 
the prices that townsmen are obliged to pay for similar products. It 
would go far toward reconciling many discontented farmers to their 
lot. The single item of wheat flour, at retailer’s prices, consumed by 
an average family, would amount to over a hundred dollars. Then 
there is cornmeal, buckwheat flour, garden and field vegetables, fruits, 
milk, cream and butter, eggs and poultry, pork, beef, and mutton, lard 
and tallow, and many other items which help to feed the family, and 
would amount to a considerable sum if purchased. 

If a farmer, after balancing his debits and credits, finds but little 
left to compensate him for his labors, he need not consider that he has 
labored for nothing. If these unestimated items of income could be 
properly appraised, we think that they would amount to a very fair 
salary.— American Agriculturist. 

NAPOLEON’S ESTIMATE OP CHRIST. 

ft 

Alexander, Cagsar, Charlemagne, and I, myself, have founded 
great empires; but upon what did these creations of our genius de¬ 
pend? Upon force. Jesus alone founded His empire upon love; and 
to this very day millions would die for him. * * I think I understand 
something of human nature; and I tell you all these weie men, and I 
am a man. N”o other is like Him; Jesus Obiist was moie than a man t 
I have inspired multitudes with such an enthusiastic devotion, that 
they would have died for me; but to do this, it was necessaiy that I 
should be visibly present with the electric influence of my looks, of 
my words, of my voice. When I saw men, and spoke with them, I 
lighted up the flame of self-devotion in theii heaits. * ^ Chnst alone 
has succeeded in so raising the mind of man toward the unseen, that it 








420 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


becomes insensible to the barriers of time and space. Across a chasm 
of eighteen hundred years Jesus Christ makes a demand which is 
beyond all others difficult to satisfy. He asks for the human heart; 
He will have it entirely to himself; He demands it unconditionally, 
and forthwith His demand is granted. Wonderful! In defiance of 
time and space, the soul of man, with all its powers and faculties, be¬ 
comes an annexation to the empire of Christ. All who sincerely 
believe in Him experience that remarkable supernatural love toward 
Him. This phenomenon is unaccountable; it is altogether beyond the 
scope of man’s creative powers. Time, the great destroyer, is power¬ 
less to extinguish this sacred flame; time can neither exhaust its 
strength, nor put a limit to its range. This is what strikes me most; 
I have often thought of it. This it is which proves to me quite con¬ 
vincingly the divinity of Jesus Christ .—Napoleon Bonaparte . 


-1—4—°*N 



DANGER 



—~ 

ICHES and the pursuit of them are apt to absorb too much 
time, so that men will have very little leisure and less dispo¬ 
sition for self-culture. There may be periods of a man’s 
life in which there will be exclusive and exhausting applica¬ 
tion to business, but that should never run long. Every man 
sliould have time for friendship, time for culture in knowledge, time 
for the amenities and generosities of friendship. A man pays dear for 
riches who so eagerly pursues them that he does not give himself time 
for God, and time for himself, as a son of God. 

It is in this point of view that the Sabbath day is desecrated to the 
woe of multitudes who let the stream of life flow strong up to the 
very verge of the Sabbath day, yea, and beating, throw over its spray 
upon that day. One day of the week every man ought to cool, from 
the topmost hairs of his head to the very soles of his feet. This is 
true, not of lazy folks, but of all men that are at work plying every 
energy and tool in themselves. They need certainly one day every 
week for rest. There ought to be some part of every day that is a 
Sabbath to a man; and there ought, at least to be this day, standing be¬ 
tween week and week, so that a man should have rest both of body 







AND THE WISE. 


§21 


and mind. . . . Five thousand years come as witnesses to testify that 
it is fot the welfare of mankind that one day in seven should be given 
to something except sordid worldliness .—Henry Ward Beecher. 



A NEGRO'S PRAYER . 

i|p) E ^ • ALEXANDER CLARK, of the u Methodist Record- 
fpl er 5 ” makes the following report of a prayer uttered by a 
colored preacher at the South: 

Thou bressed Jesus, who has met wid dy c-h-i-l-n’ 
so m-a-n-y times befo’, come dis way jus’ one time mo’—jus’ 
o-n-e time mo’. Pull away de cuhtains of dy majesty, an’ fol’ 
back the doahs ob dy g-r-e-a-t glory, an’ come down dis way 
jus’ one time,—just o-n-e time mo’. You knows de poor peniten’s is 
tremblin’ in dare sins, like de leaves a tremblin’ in de sto’m. You 
k-n-o-w-s how dey’s a-cryin’ an’ a-weepin’ in the dark midnight of 
dare gloom; you k-n-o-w-s de moon turn into blackness an’ de stahs 
all blowin’ out' in de brefF of the tempes’ sweepin’ roun’ de sky ob 
sin. O thou g-r-e-a-t Light of de worl’, po’ in de floods ob de moh- 
nin’ upon dare trouble’ souls. You see de backslidah trippin’ an’ 
a-stumblin’ on his way to hell. O M-a-s-t-a-h, come one time mo’; 
put on dy beautiful gahments, an’ come a-trampin’ down on de clouds 
of dy majesty, an’ stan’one time mo’ upon de wave, as you done gone 
an’ stan’ on old Gal-i-l-e-e long time ago; come an’ put dat han’ 
where de nail was driv’, and bleedin’ an’ a-hurtin’ sore,—o-h come 
an’ put dat han’ on de backslidah’s shouldah now, an’ stop dat man 
dis night. Did n’ you say you’d save ‘the m-o-u-n-a-h? Did’n you 
promise to wipe away his drippin’ teahs? You heahs de moun-ahs’ 
cry; you sees his drippin’ teahs. O turn r-o-u-n’ Zion’s wheel jus’ one 
time mo’, an’ open a little wi-dah de heaven’s do’, an’ let down de 
glory! When the poor mounah call to-night,— when he come 
a-creepin’ an’ a-weepin’ to de altah, s-a-v-e, s-a-v-e, O-h, m-m-m-m 
(a wailing chant by all) s-a-v-e by the blood of‘de Lamb. [The 
people respond, “S-a-v-e by the blood.”] Turn de wicked clar’ 
roun’. Tell him whar to go wid his troubled min’; show him what to 






THE BEAUTIPUL, THE WOKDEP^PUL, 


422 


do wid his pore broken heart. Comfort de weepin’ Rachels; let de 


weary Johns lean on dy breas’; hush de stormy seas of sin; b-l-o-c-k. 


a-d-e de road to hell; s-a-v-e, Mastah, o-h, s-a-v-e by de blood of de 
Lamb. When you hears de wailin’ Marys, tell dem dare dead brud- 
ders shall come out’n de grave and live; tell de pore chil’n dare sins is 
all forgiven; tell de a-n-g-e-l-s to take up de harps and de trumpets 
of glory; fro w-i-d-e open de mansions of the New Jerusalem for de 
jubi-l-e-e over de one sinner who turns to de Lord to-night. 




A 



HAT do you think of this for a prayer at family worship? 
Adam Scott gives the following as a prayer once offered by 


a shepherd, and grandmother has herself heard prayers 
a ^ mos ^ as P^ a ^ n ? i n their comments on the people around, 
A from the lips of Scotch and Scotch-Irish folks: 

“ We particularly thank Thee for Thy great goodness to Meg; 
and that it ever cam into Thy head to take anv thocht of sic a useless 
girl as her. For the sake o’ Thy puir sinfu’ creeturs now addressing 
Thee, in their ain shilly-shally way; and for the sake of mail* than 
we daur weel name to Thee, hae mercy on our Rab. Ye ken, he’s 
a wild, mischievous callant, and thinks nae mail* o’ committing sin 
than a dog o’ lickin’ a dish.' But put Thy hook in til his nose, and 
Thy bridle intil his muth, and gar him come back to Thee, wi’ a 
jerk that he’ll no forget the longest day he has to live. Dinna forget 
puir Jamie, who’s far away frae us the nicht. Keep Thy arm o’ 
power aboot him, and I wish Ye wad endow him wi’ a little spunk 
to ach for himself; for if Ye dinna, he’ll be a bauchle i’ this warld, 
and a back sitter i’ the next. Thou hast addecl^ yen to our family 
(one of his sons had just married against his approbation). So has 
been Thy wull. It wad never hae been mine. But, if it is o’ Thee, 
do Thou bless the connection. But, if the fule hath done it out o’ car¬ 
nal desire, against a’ reason and credit, may the cauld rain o’ adversity 
settle in his habitation. Amen .”—Christian at Work. 








AND THE WISE. 


423 


A PRETTY FANCY. 

When day begins to go up to heaven at night, it does not spread 
a pair of wings and fly up aloft like a bird. It just climbs softly up 
on a ladder. It sets its red sandal on the shrub you have watered 
these three days, lest it should perish with thirst; then it steps on the 
tree we sit under, and thence to the ridge of the roof; from the roof 
to the chimney; and from the chimney to the tall elm; and from the 
elm to the tall church spire; and then to the threshold of heaven; and 
thus you can see it go up as though it walked up red roses.— Jeremy 
Taylor. 


■2 




||>S a rule, the whole tone of a home depends upon the woman 
f/Sfli at the head of it; the average home, not the poverty-stricken 
home, nor the wealthy home. In this average home, whether 
sunshine shall enter the rooms, whether the parlor shall be 
US ed and enjoyed, whether the table shall be invitingly spread, 
whether bri ght i ights and bright fires shall give warmth and cheer 
on winter nights,—whether, in brief, the home shall be an agree¬ 
able or disagreeable place, is usually what the woman determines. 
Men are powerless in the matter. Some find solace for a dismal home 
in study; some, occupation in business; some submit with what 
patience they can; others are attracted by the cheer ot the public 
house; and it is especially young men who are apt, in consequence, 
to drift into bad company and bad habits. 


B>-§— <§>—C- 




Twenty clerks in a store, twenty hands in a printing office, twenty 
apprentices in a ship-yard, twenty young men in a town, all want to 
get on in the world, and expect to do so. One of the cleiks will 
become a partner, and make a fortune; one of the compositors will 
own a newspaper, and become an influential citizen; one of the 
apprentices will become a master builder; one of the villagers will get 








424 


JFHE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


a handsome farm, and live like a patriarch,—but which one is the 
lucky individual? Lucky! There is no luck about it. The thing is 
almost as certain as the rule of three. The young fellow who will 
distance his competitors is he who masters his business, who preserves 
his integrity, who lives cleanly and purely, who devotes his leisure to 
the acquisition of knowledge, who gains friends by deserving them, 
and who saves his spare money. There are some ways to fortune 
shorter than this dusty old highway; but the staunch men of the com¬ 
munity, the men who achieve something really worth having,—good 
fortune, good name, and serene old age,—all go in this road. 


KEEP HOME BRIGHT\ 


<3 


!|||P|EEP home bright, mothers! A lady was at the seashore 
last summer, whose four boys, aged from eight to sixteen 
years, were the theme of even the busiest tongues. Such 
„ manly boys, so obedient, so thoughtful of mother and sister, 

such perfect gentlemen, without a tinge of mannishness. Boys who 
could act like men in the parlor, but were full of fun and play in the 
field; who seemed innocent of late hours, rich dishes, and champagne, 
and yet could be thoroughly at ease while they walked and talked 
with the girls of their age, and conversed with their elders. The 

secret leaked out one day. Mrs. S-spent many of her evenings 

at home with her boys in the parlor, and while she played “young 
lady,” they made calls upon her. She did not tell us so, but we do not 
doubt for an instant that sweet lessons of politeness, purity, and that 
highest gentlemanliness, religion, were interspersed with the “ little 
nothings” talked during these “ calls.”—N. N. Times . 

=50 - 


A man cannot afford to be unfaithful under any circumstances; a 
man cannot afford to be mean at any time; a man cannot afford to do 
less than his best at all times, and under all circumstances. No matter 
how wrongfully you are placed, and no matter how unjustly you are 
treated, you cannot, for your own sake, afford to use anything but 






AND JUHE WISE. 


42S 


your better self, nor to render anything but your better services; you 
cannot afford to cheat a cheater; you cannot afford to be mean to a 
mean man; you cannot afford to do other than deal uprightly with 
any man, no matter what exigencies may exist between him and you. 
No man can afford to be anything but a true man, living in his higher 
nature, and acting from the highest considerations. 


A PRINCIPLE THAT MOLDS GOOD IN WORK AS 


Gen. Q. A. Gillmore in his article on “Harbor Defence,” says; 
« Where a large gun is needed to deliver a crushing blow, no possible 
accumulation of smaller guns will answer instead. A thousand 
pounds of grapeshot, even if fired as one volley, can be stopped by a 
one-inch steel plate; but if sent as a single bolt it will shatter the best 
twelve-inch armor P Nothing could more clearly illustrate the advan¬ 
tages of concentration. 




A SERMON ON TA TIBNCE. 

fl^UT how much more do we need patience m regard to the exi¬ 
gencies of everyday life! How long is a mothei s waiting 
^ for the unfolding of her child! How many tears, half of 
surprise and half of loving indignation before God, does she 
shed! “Did I not consecrate this babe to thee in the very womb, 
my Master? Have I not made myself sacred for the child’s sake? 
Have I not watched over it? Have I not prayed with it? . And 
wherefore is the child given over, like the fox or the wolf, to lying or 
to stealing? Is this the saintly creature that I meant to rear for God, 

for men, for myself, and for himself? 

But mother, have patience. It is a great thing that thou hast 

asked. It is a great thing that is to be given thee. You have need of 
patience after you have done the will of God, day by day, week by 
week, and month by month, until you have received the answer. A 









426 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


good mother is one of God’s windlasses around which is twined a 
silver thread; the child is attached to the other end of it; he may go 
out and out; but, first or last, there will be a returning, and there will 
be a winding up, and he will come back again. If the father or 
mother has great faith, the child that has gone astray will certainly, 
first or last, come back again. God’s promise will not fail; but you 
will have need of patience, and you must have a great deal of pati¬ 
ence—especially if you are impatient, and more especially if you are 
nervous. 

When God takes the babe out of your arms you must not think 
that that is a problem of itself, and ask yourself, “ What had that 
child done? Why was it not left with me?” God is acting multitu- 
dinously with you, and one event is but one thread in a garment; it is 
but one step in the economy of God; and it may be not only for the 
child’s good, but for your good in over-measure, that affliction is sent 
to you. It may have come to you through a violation of natural law; 
but in one way or another that will of God is employed in working 
out the problem of your sanctification and salvation. You must not, 
therefore, judge God by single things,— Dr. Lyman Abbott. 


TESTIMONY OP THE AGED . 



W,A ®HEN the saintly Polycarp was being led to the fiery stake 
M at the age of a hundred years, he was urged by some of the 
heathen to renounce Christ by uttering even so much as one 
word against Him, and to save himself from the agonies of 
<H> a cruel death. But you remember his noble answer: “ Eighty 
and six years have I served Him, and He has never done me anything 
but good all my life; and shall I now renounce Him in my old age?” 

When Philip Henry, the father of the great commentator, was 
preaching, toward the end of his long ministry at Broad Oak, on the 
words, “ My yoke is easy, and my burden is light,” he appealed in a 
manner which affected many that heard it, to the experiences of all 
that had “drawn in that yoke,” in the following words: “Call now 
if there be any that will answer you, and to which of the saints will 





AND THE WISE. 


427 

you turn? Turn to whom you will, and they will all agree that they 
have found wisdom’s ways pleasantness, and Christ’s commandments 
not grievous; and (he added), I will here witness for one who, 
through grace, has in some poor measure been drawing this yoke now 
above thirty years, and, I have found it an easy yoke, and 1 like my 
choice too 'well to change .” 


On one ot the first days of June a Norwegian ship, heavily 
freighted, and homeward bound, after many long months of absence, 
foundered, and was totally lost, with all on board, on the Atlantic 
coast, off Ocean Grove. Thus many a soul, heavily and richly 

freighted, and homeward bound on the voyage of life, is wrecked and 
lost. 


(plJlfSOW eagerly we listen to all that is told of successful men; 
Aim what a mystery surrounds great firms, why are they success- 
wh a t is their secret, what the sure road to prosperity;— 
^ ^ how disappointed we are to find there is no royal road, no 
short and easy way, and that success during a long term of years, in¬ 
stead of being the result of brilliant schemes, is due to hard work, 
persistent and painstaking effort, vigilant attention to the little things, 
thoroughness in all. And how well it is illustrated by this glimpse of 
the inner workings of a great house in New York: 

“Toward customers be invariably polite and attentive, whether 
they be agreeable or disagreeable, fair or unfair, considerate or exact¬ 
ing, without any regard to their class or condition, unless indeed you 
be the more obliging and serviceable to the humble and ignorant. 
The more self-forgetting you are and the more acceptable you are to 
whomsoever your customer may be, the better you are as a salesman; 
it is your highest duty to be agreeable to all. Show goods freely to 
all comers; be painstaking to match samples; be as serviceable as you 
can be to all, whether buyers or not. At the outset you have to guess 











428 


JPHE BEAUTIFUL, JFHE WONDERFUL, 


what grade of goods she wants, high-priced or low-priced; if you do 
not guess correctly be quick to discover your error and right yourself 
instantly. It is impertinent to insist on showing goods not wanted; it 
is delicately polite to get to exactly what is wanted, adroitly, and on the 
slightest hint. Do not try to change a buyer’s choice except to this 
extent: Always use your knowledge of goods to her advantage if she 
wavers or indicates a desire for your advice. What we want sold is 
the precise article which she wants to buy. In speaking of goods use 
correct names, say what they are made of if you have occasion, if you 
do not know and cannot find out, say so; sell nothing on a misunder¬ 
standing if you know it exists; make no promises that you have any 
doubt about the fulfillment of; and having made a promise, do more 
than your own share toward its fulfillment. See that the next after 
you does his share if you can.” 






—► 

Yf OME years ago a boy was discovered in the street, evidently 
bri ght and intelligent, but sick. 

A man who had feelings of kindness strongly developed, 
a. °^°T went to ask him what he was doing there. 

“I am waiting for God to come for me,” he said. 

“What do you mean?” asked the gentleman, touched by the 
pathetic tone of the answer, and the condition of the boy, in whose 
bright eyes and flushed face he saw the evidence of fever. 

“ God sent for father and mother and little brother,” said he, “ and 
took them away up to His home in the sky, and mother told me 
when she was sick that God would take care of me. I have nobodv 
to give me anything, and so I came out here and have been looking 
into the sky for God to come and take care of me, as mother said he 
would. He will come, won’t He? Mother never told me a lie'.” 

“Yes, my lad,” replied the gentleman, overcome with emotion, 
“ He has sent me to take care of you.” 

You should have seen the boy’s eye flash, and the smile of triumph 
break over his face, as he said: 





AMD JPHE WISE. 


429 


“ Mother never told me a lie, sir. But you have been a long while 
on the way.” 

What a lesson of trust! And how the incident shows the effect of 
never deceiving children with idle tales. 




JESS IN LIFE . 

^|® EN JAMIN FRANKLIN attributed his success as a public 
iSN man, not to his talents or his powers of speaking—for these 
weie moderate but to his known integrity of character. 
eJljU “ Hence it was,’ he says, “ that I had so much weight with 
my fellow citizens. I was but a bad speaker, never elo¬ 
quent, subject to much hesitation in my choice of words, hardly 
correct in language, and yet I generally carried my point.” 
Character creates confidence in men in high stations as well as in 
humble life. It was said of the first Emperor Alexander of 
Russia, that his personal character was equivalent to a constitution. 


During the wars of the Fronde, Montaigne was the only man among 
the French gentry who kept his castle gates unbarred; and it was said 
of him that his personal character was worth more to him than a reg¬ 
iment of horse. That character is power, is true in a much higher 
sense than that knowledge is power. Mind, without heart, intelli¬ 
gence without conduct, cleverness without goodness, are powers in 
their way, but they may be powers only for mischief. We may be 
instructed or amused by them; but it is sometimes as difficult to ad¬ 
mire them as it would be to determine the dexterity of a pickpocket, 
or the horsemanship of a highwayman. Truthfulness, integrity, and 
goodness—qualities that hang not on any man’s breath—form the 
essence of manly character, or, as one of our old writers has it, “that 
inbred loyalty unto virtue which can serve her without a livery.” 
When Stephen of Colonna fell into the hands of his wicked assail¬ 
ants, and they asked him in derision, “ Where is now your fortress?” 
“Here!” was his bold reply, placing his hand upon his heart. It is in 
misfortune that the character of the upright man shines forth with the 
greatest luster; and when all else fails, he takes stand upon his integ¬ 
rity and upon his courage. 










THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 



The Jewish Psalms, in which is expressed the very spirit of the 
national life, have furnished the bridal hymns, the battle songs, the 
pilgrim marches, the penitential prayers, and the public praises of 
every nation in Christendom since Christendom was born. These 
Psalms have rolled through the din of every great European battle¬ 
field, they have pealed through the scream of the storm in every 
ocean highway of the earth. Drake’s sailors sang them when they 
clove the virgin wave of the Pacific; Frobisher’s when they dashed 
against the barriers of the Arctic ice and night. They floated over 
the waters on that day of glad days when England held her Protest¬ 
ant freedom against Pope and Spaniard, and won the naval supremacy 
of the world. They crossed the ocean with the “ May Flower” Pil¬ 
grims; they were sung ronnd Cromwell’s camp-fires, and his Iron¬ 
sides charged to their music; while they have filled the peaceful homes 
of our land and of Christendom with the voice of supplication and the 
breath of praise. In palace halls, by happy hearths, in squalid rooms, 
in pauper wards, in prison cells, in crowded sanctuaries, in lonely 
wildernesses, everywhere these Jews have uttered our moan of contri¬ 
tion and our song of triumph, our tearful complaints and our wrest¬ 
ling, conquering prayer.— y. Baldwin Brown . 




DAY’S journey was thirty-three and one-fifth miles. 

H A Sabbath day’s journey was about an English mile, 

f Ezekiel’s reed was nearly eleven feet. 

SjgfS A cubic is nearly twenty-two inches. 

A hand’s breadth is equal to three and five-eighths inches. 

A shekel of gold was $8.09. 

A talent of silver was $538.32. 

A talent of gold was $13,809. 

A piece of silver, or a penny, was thirteen cents. 

A farthing was three cents. 







AND THE WISE. 


4aH 


A garah was a cent. 

A mite was a cent. 

An epha, 01 bath, contains seven gallons and five pints. 
A bin was one gallon and two pints. 

A firkin was seven pints. 

An omer was six pints. 

A cab was three pints. 




■HAT right has any man or any woman to deface the tem- 
Wimifr pie of the Holy Ghost? What is the ear? Why, it is the 
whispering gallery of the human soul. What is the eye? 
It is the observatory God constructed, its telescope sweep¬ 
ing the heavens. What is the hand ? An instrument so 
wonderful that, when the Earl of Bridgewater bequeathed in his will 
$40,000 for treatises to be written on the wisdom, power, and good¬ 
ness of God, and Dr. Chalmers found his subject in the adaptation of 
eternal nature to the moral and intellectual constitution of man, and 
the learned Dr. Whewell found his subject in astronomy, Sir Charles 
Bell, the great English anatomist and surgeon, found his greatest 
illustration of the wisdom, power and goodness of God in the con¬ 
struction of the human hand, writing his whole book on that subject. 
So wonderful is the body that God names his own attributes after dif¬ 
ferent parts of it. His omniscience—it is God’s eye. His omnipres¬ 
ence—it is God’s ear. His omnipotence—it is God’s arm. The 
upholstery of the midnight heavens—it is the work of God’s fingers. 
His life-giving power—it is the breath of the Almighty. His domin¬ 
ion—the government shall be upon his shoulder. A body so divinely 
honored and so divinely constructed, let us be careful not to abuse it. 
When it becomes a Christian duty to take care of our health, is not 
the whole tendency toward longevity? If I toss my watch about 
recklessly, and drop it on the pavement, and wind it up any time of 
day or night I happen to think of it, and often let it run down, while 
you are careful with your watch and never abuse it, and wind it up 








432 


JPHE BEAUTIFUL, JTHE WONDERFUL, 


just the same hour every night, and then put it away in a place where 
it will not suffer from the violent changes of atmosphere, which watch 
will last the longer? Common sense answers. Now, the human 
body is God’s watch. You see the hands of the watch, you see the 
face of the watch; but the beating of the heart is the ticking of the 

r 

watch. Oh! be careful, and not let it run down. 

Practical religion is a protest against all the dissipations which in¬ 
jure and destroy the health. Bad men and women live a very short 
life. Their sin kills them. I know hundreds of good old men, but 
I do not know a half-dozen bad old men. Why? They do not get 
old. Oh! how many people we have known who have not lived out 
half their days because of their dissipations and indulgences. There 
are aged people in this house to-day who would have been dead 
twenty-five years ago but for the defenses and equipoise of religion. 
You have no more natural resistance than hundreds of people who lie 
in Greenwood and Mount Auburn, and Laurel Hill to-day, slain by 
their own vices. The doctors made their cases as kind and pleasant 
as they could, and it was called congestion of the brain; but the 
snakes and the blue-flies that crawled over the pillow in the sight of 
the delirious patient showed what was the matter with him. You, 
the aged Christian man, walked right along by that unfortunate until 
you came to the golden pillar of a Christian life. You went to the 
right, he went to the left. That is all the difference between you. 
Oh! if this religion is a protest against all forms of dissipation, then 
it is an illustrious friend of longevity. My text right again: “With 
long life will I satisfy thee.” 



There came a morning at last when the baby’s eyes did not open. 
Dr. Erskine felt the heart throb faintly under his fingers, but he knew 
it was beating its last. 

He trembled for Elizabeth, and dared not tell her. She antici¬ 
pated him. 

“ Doctor,” she said,—and her voice was so passionless that it might 




AND THE WISE. 


433 


almost have belonged to a disembodied spirit,— 44 1 know that my 
darling is dying.” 

He bowed his head mutely. Her very calmness awed him. 

44 Is there anything you can do to ease her? ” 

44 Nothing I do not think she suffers.” 

44 Then will you please to go away? She is mine,—nobody’s but 
mine, in her life and in her death,—and I want her quite to myself at 
last.” 

Sorrowfully enough he left her. 

Elizabeth held her child closely, but gently. She thought in that 
hour she never could love anything again. She wanted to cry, but 
her eyes were dry and burning, and not a tear fell on the little 
upturned face, changing so fast to marble. She bent over and whis¬ 
pered something in the baby’s ear,—a wild, passionate prayer that it 
would remember her and know her in the infinite spaces. A look 
seemed to answer her,—a radiant, loving look, which she thought 
must be born of the near heaven. She pressed her lips in a last 
despairing agony of love to the little face, from which already, as she 
kissed it, the soul had fled. Her white wonder had gone home. This 
which lay upon her hungry heart was stone.— 44 Some Woman's 
Heart'' 



ii Perkins . 


-<i» 




SAW a man pulling his arms off trying to get on a pair of 
boots, so I said: 

Happy Thought —They are too small, and you will never 
V* be able to get them on till you have worn them a spell. 

* I heard an officer in the Seventh Regiment scolding a private for 

coming too late to drill, so I said: 

Happy Thought —Somebody must always come last; this fellow 
ought to be praised, for if he had come earlier, he would have shirked 

this scolding off upon somebody else! 

I saw an old maid at the Fifth avenue with her face covered with 
wrinkles, turning sadly away from the mirror, as she said. 

28 











m 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


Happy Thought —Mirrors, nowadays, are very faulty. They 
don’t make such nice mirrors as they used to when I was young! 

I heard a young lady from Brooklyn praising the sun, so I said: 

Happy Thought —The sun may be very good, but the moon is a 
good deal better; for she gives 11s light in the night, when we need it, 
while the sun only shines in the daytime, when it is light enough 
without it. 

I saw two men shoot an eagle, and as he dropped on the ground, 
I said: 

Happy Thought —You might have saved your powder, for the 
fall alone would have killed him. 

Two Mississippi River darkeys saw, for the first time, a train of 
cars. They were in a quandary to know what kind of a monster it 
was, so one said: 

Happy Thought —It is a dried up steamboat getting back into the 
river. 

A poor sick man, with a mustard plaster on him, said: 

Happy Thought —If I should eat a loaf of bread, I’d be a live 
sandwich! 

As a man was burying his wife, he said to his friend in the grave¬ 
yard; alas! you feel happier than I. Yes, neighbor, said the friend: 

Happy Thought —I ought to feel happier. I have two wives 
buried there. 

A man out West turned State’s evidence and swore he was a mem¬ 
ber of a gang of thieves. By and by they found the roll of actual 
members, and accused the man of swearing falsely. “ I was a mem¬ 
ber,” said the man, “ I— 

Happy Thought —“I was an honorary member!” 






-- 



Among the numerous articles discovered by Dr. Schliemann, in 
the tombs of the kings at Mycenae, was a golden scepter which he 
describes at length as an object of marvelous beauty and a wonder to 
look upon. Also a crown of gold over two feet long. Many other 









AND THE WISE. 


43 S 


symbols of royalty and kingly power were found, but the hand which 
held this sceptei, and the head which wore this crown, have long 
since moldered into dust. And the pomp and power of which these 
were the outward emblems, vanished many thousands of years ago. 
What more striking illustration could we have of the perishable 
nature of all human greatness? 



AFTER DARE. 



—-» - 0. 

ALMOST invariably boys who have been allowed to roam 
i free at night have come to moral shipwreck and social 


\ destruction. The exceptions have been where there was a 

wholesome temperament, a strong intellect and peculiar social 
influences. Men and boys, women and girls, whatever may 
have been their culture, feel that there is something in the streets at 
night different to that which is in the day; something that excites 
apprehension, or creates alarm, or gives license. Boys that are demure 
by day will say things at night they would blush to say in dayl ight. 

The result of our observation is the clear conviction that it is 
absolutely necessary that parents know exactly where their children 
are from sundown until sunrise. No boy ought to be allowed to go 
alone off the pavement of his father’s house after sundown. It ought 
not to be a hard restriction; to a boy thus trained from infancy, it 
will not be. It is unnatural that a child should want to go off to play 
in the dark with other children. The desire never comes until 
the child has begun to be corrupt. Sometimes for quiet, parents will 
allow their children to go “ round the corner,” to play with some 
other children. Sometimes this is allowed through mere carelessness. 
We never knew it to fail to end disastrously. We have in our mind 
one or two striking' cases in which weak mothers have pleaded foi 
this liberty for their children, and are now reaping the bitter fruits. 

Childhood should be trained with the gentleness of love and the 
firmness of sagacious authority; but whethei these aie the command 
of the parent or not, there is one rule absolutely indispensable for the 
safety and honor of the family,— namely, that, while the child is 





430 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


small, he shall never go off the lot without his parents or some other 
proper guardian; and that when he grows older, until he comes of 
age, his parents ought to know where he is every moment of his time. 
— Dr. Deems. 


% 




^ man with good, firm health is rich. 

So is the man with a clear conscience. 

So is the parent of vigorous, happy children. 

So is the editor of a good paper, with a big subscription list. 

So is the clergyman whose coat the little children of the parish 
pluck as he passes them, in their play. 

So is the wife who has the whole heart of a good husband. 

So is the maiden whose horizon is not bounded by the u coming 
man,” but who has a purpose in life, whether she ever meets him or 
not. 


So is the young man who, laying his hand on his heart, can say, 
“ I have treated every woman I have ever met as I should wish my 
sister treated by other men.” 

So is the little child who goes to sleep with a kiss on its lips, and 
for whose waking a blessing waits. 




BUSY MEM. 

No idle man has “time” for the Lord’s work. It has been proven 
over and over again, that, if there is work for the Master to be done, 
some busy man must do it. A correspondent of the Adva?ice gives a 
fact that is an illustration of this truth. He found in one of the cities 
of the Southwest a young man who is doing a large, thriving and 
exacting business, and who, nevertheless, finds time to be the secretary 
of the State Sunday-school Association, the secretary of his District 
Sunday-school Association, the secretary of the Young Men’s Christ¬ 
ian Association of his city, the superintendent of an afternoon mission 
Sunday-school, the teacher of a Bible-class in his church school, and 










AND JFHE WISE. 


432 


the conductor of a twilight prayer-meeting on Sunday for boys. 
When asked how he could do so much without neglecting his busi¬ 
ness, his reply was: “ When I go to my office in the morning, 1 do 
the Lord's work first , and he always gives me time and strength to 
do my own work afterward.” The Lord’s work first! Is that the 
ordinary rule? 

^((( 0 ))))># © —£- < — ■ • 


J'T is such an easy thing to do. Only follow the following eight 
2" simple rules, and you’ll find him growing spiritless, disheart- 
^ ened, his sermons dry, uninteresting, his feeble efforts fruitless; 
,‘\y* he will merit all your criticisms. But the best of this unfailing 
receipt is, it may help you to see how not to do it , and so we give it: 

1. Absent yourself from one service every Sabbath, or miss at 
least one in every three services. 

2. Never attend any of the prayer-meetings; show him that you 
value these less than you do a lecture, or concert, or any other evening 
entertainment. 

3. If your minister proposes to hold extra meetings for the pur¬ 
pose of doing good, be sure and withhold jmur co-operation. 

4. Give yourself no concern about his salary, whether it is paid or 
not. 

5. Criticise your minister freely. 

6. Praise him very sparingly. 

7. Find fault with him plentifully. 

8. Pray for him seldom or never. 




THE VALUE OP SPARE MOMENTS. 

The biographer of George Stephenson tells us that the smallest 
fragments of his time were regarded by him as precious, and that “he 
was never so happy as when improving them.” Franklin stole his 
hours of study from meals and sleep, and for years, with inflexible 
resolution, strove to save for his own instruction, every minute that 









438 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


could be won. Henry Kirke White learnt Greek while walking to 
and from a lawyer’s office. Hugh Miller found time while pursuing 
his trade as a stone mason, not only to read, but to write, cultivating 
his style till he became one of the most facile and brilliant authors of 
the day. Elihu Burritt acquired a mastery of eighteen languages and 
twenty-two dialects, not by rare genius, which he disclaimed, but by 
improving the bits and fragments of time which he could steal from 
his occupation as a blacksmith. Mr. Grote, the historian of Greece, 
whose work is by far the fullest and most trustworthy on the subject, 
and who also snatched time from business to write two large volumes 
upon Plato, was a banker. Sir John Lubbock, the highest English 
authority on pre-historic archaeology, has made himself such by steal¬ 
ing the time from mercantile pursuits. John Quincy Adams, to the 
last day of his life, was an economist of moments. To redeem the 
time, he rose early. “ I feel nothing like ennui” he said. “ Time is 
too short for me, rather than too long. If the day were forty-eight 
hours long, instead of twenty-four, I could employ them all, if I had 
but eves and hands to read and write.” While at St. Petersburg - , he 
complained bitterly of the great loss of his time from the civilities 
and visits of his friends and associates.— Getting on in the World. 




WITH BAl 


-d&l 




M 


jjHE attaches of the banking institutions, as well as postoffice 
clerks, railroad conductors, etc., are by a great many supposed 
to be walking encyclopedias and public servants, expected to 
1 answer all questions put to them, and to perform all services 

required of them. A suffering bank official has, therefore, adopted a 
few rules to govern those who do business at the banks, the following 
of which, it will be noticed, will expedite transactions with the 
money changers wonderfully: 

If you have any business with a bank, put it off until 3 o’clock, 
or, if possible, a little later, as it looks more business-like to rush in 
just as the bank is closing. 

In depositing money, try and get it upside down and wron^ end 







AND THE WISE. 


4&9 

foremost, so that the teller may have a little exercise in straightening 
it up before counting it. 

It is best not to take your bank book with you, but call another 
time to have it entered. You can thus make two trips to the bank 
where one would answer. 

If a check is made payable to your order, be careful not to indorse 
it before handing it to the teller, but let him return it to you, and wait 
while you indorse it; this helps pass the time, and is a great pleasure 
and relief to the teller. 

You can generally make time when making a deposit by counting 
your money down to the teller, and you can always count more 
speedily and correctly than he can. 

If you make a deposit of one hundred dollars and give a check for 
fifty dollars, it is a good thing to call frequently at the bank and ask 
how your account stands, as it impresses the officers favorably with 
your business qualifications. 

Never keep any record of when your notes fall due, and then if 
they are protested, censure the bank for not giving you notice. 

Always date your checks ahead; it is a never-failing sign that you 
keep a good balance in bank; or if you do not wish it generally known 
that you are doing a good business, do not deposit your money until 
about the time you expect your check will be in. 

A strict observance of the foregoing rules will make your accounts 
desirable for any bank, and make you a geneial favonte with all the 

bank officers. 



Beautiful Words and Pull of Comfort 


EARLY beloved, do not be afraid to die. Do not be afraid 
to let your children die. That would be as if a mother rose¬ 
bush should be so enamored of the buds which it has carried 
all winter long, that when spring calls them, it should say: 
u Do not blossom, buds; do not blossom.” Let your children go 
when God wants them. There is no bosom so sweet, no cradle so 
dear as the arms of God. There is nothing in this life so worth 








MO 


l?HE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


having as life eternal. There is no friendship here that is worthy to 
be named with the friendships that exist there. Earth does not know 
how to love; for life here is like a half-thawed rill in the mountain, 
which trickles, but cannot flow. Only in the heavenly land are the 
spirits of the just made perfect. 

We are living for it, brethren. We are getting ready to go. One, 
and another, and another, of us will depart. But do not let anybody 
grieve when I go. Clap your hands then. When I fall, and am 
buried in Greenwood, let no man stand over the turf and say, “ Here 
lies Henry Ward Beecher;” for God knows that I will not lie there. 
Look up, if you love me, and if you feel that I have helped you on 
your way home; stand with your feet on my turf, and look up, for I 
will not hear anybody that does not speak with his mouth toward 
heaven. 

No person can witness the last sad ceremonials which are per¬ 
formed over the remains of a human being,—the sealing down of the 
unopenable lid; the letting down of the dust into dust; and the plac¬ 
ing of the green sod over the grave,—no person can witness these 
things, and then turn away and say, “ I have buried my wife; I have 
buried my child; I have buried my love.” 

God forbid that we should bury anything. There is no earth that 
can touch my companion. There is no earth that can touch my child. 
I would fight my little breath and strength away before I would per¬ 
mit any clod to touch them. The jewel is notin the ground. The 
jewel has dropped out of the casket, and I have buried the casket, not 
the jewel. 

When the apple tree blossoms, you laugh; and you do not cry 
when you pick the apple; but when man blossoms man laughs, and 
then, when God picks the fruit, he cries. Why, your child is not 
your child till you have lost him. That which you can put your arms 
about, is that which you cannot afford to love. No bird cries when 
the shell is broken, and the birdling comes forth, or when, a little 
later, it leaves the nest, and wings its way through the air. Only 
mothers do that when their children, released from earth, fly away to 
a better world. And yet only they are worthy of immortal love that 
escape from the clog of this mortal state .—Henry Ward Beecher. 


AND THE WISE. 


441 



In a certain district in Russia there is to be seen, in a solitary 
place, a pillar with this inscription: “ Greater love hath no man than 
this, that a man lay down his life for his friend.” That pillar tells a 
touching tale, which many of you must have heard. It was a wild 
region infested with wolves, and as a little party traveled along it 
soon became plain that these were on their track. The pistols were 
fired; one horse after another was left to the ravenous wolves, till, as 
they came nearer and nearer, and nothing else remained to be tried, 
the faithful servant, in spite of the expostulations of his master, threw 
himself into the midst of them, and, by his own death, saved his mas¬ 
ter. That pillar marks the spot where his bones were found; that 
inscription records a noble instance of attachment. But there is 
another nobler still. There is another pillar, and on it reads: “Herein 
is love, not that we love God, but that He loved us, and sent His 
Son to be the propitiation for our sins.” 


I—eJ 




Ts >—§ 





> -• 

YOUNG man’s interest and duty both dictate that he should 
make himself indispensable to his employers. He should 
be so industrious, prompt and careful that the accident of 
his temporary absence should be noticed by his being missed. 
A young man should make his employer his friend, by doing 
faithfully and minutely all that is intrusted to him. It is a great 
mistake to be over nice and fastidious about work. Pitch in 
readily, and your willingness will be appreciated, while the 
u hi°h-toned ” young man who quibbles about what is and what 
is not his place to do, will get the cold shoulder. Theie is a 
story that George Washington once helped to roll a log that one of 
his corporals would not handle, and the greatest emperor of Russia 
worked with a shipwright in England—to learn the business. That s 
just what you want to do. Be energetic, look and act with alacrity ? 
take an interest in your employer’s success, work as though the business 














THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


was your own and let your employer know that he may place absolute 
reliance in your word and on your act. Be mindful; have your mind on 
your business, because it is that which is going to help you, not those 
outside attractions which some of the “ boys” are thinking about. 
Take pleasure in work; do not go about it in a listless, formal manner, 
but with alacrity and cheerfulness, and remember, that while working 
thus for others you are laying the foundation for your own success in, 
life.— Anonymous. 




UP. 






1 


S SHIP was sailing in the southern waters of the Atlantic, 
when her crew saw another vessel making signals of distress. 
They bore down toward the distressed ship, and hailed 
them: “ What is the matter?” 

“ We are dying for water,” was the response. 

“ Dip it up then,” was answered. “You are in the mouth of the 
Amazon River.” 

There those sailors were thirsting, and suffering, and fearing, and 
longingfor water, and supposing there was nothing but the ocean’s 
brine around them, when, in fact, they had sailed unconsciously into 
the broad mouth of the mightiest river on the globe, and did not 
know it. And though to them it seemed that they must perish with 
thirst, yet there was a hundred miles of fresh water all around them, 
and they had nothing to do but to “ dip it up.” 

Jesus Christ says: “If any man thirst, let him come unto Me 
and drink.” “And the Spirit and the bride say, come, and whosoever 
will, let him come and take of the water of life freelv.” Thirsting 1 
soul, the flood is all around you; “dip it up, then!” and drink and 
thirst no more .—British Workman. 


RESPECT DUE TO WIVES. 


Do not jest with your wife upon a subject in which there is danger 
of wounding her feelings. Remember, that she treasures every word 
you utter. Do not speak of great virtues in another man’s wife to 










AND JUHE WISE. 


m 


remind your own of a fault. Do not reproach your wife with per¬ 
sonal delects, tor it she has sensibility you inflict a wound difficult to 
heal. Do not treat your wile with inattention in company; it touches 
her pride, and she will not respect you more or love you better for it. 
Do not upbraid your wite in the presence of a third party; the sense 
of your disregard for her feelings will prevent her from acknowl¬ 
edging her fault. Do not entertain your wife by praising the beauty 
and accomplishments of other women. If you would have a pleasant 
home and a cheerful wife, pass your evenings under your own roof. 
Do not be stem and silent in your own house, and remarkable for 
sociability elsewhere. 




\S it possible that Napoleon should win this battle? We 
f 1 / \/| answer, not. Why? Because of Wellington ? Because of 
, Blucher? No! Because of God. 

For Bonaparte to be conqueror at Waterloo was not in 
the law of the nineteenth century. Another series of facts were pre¬ 
paring, in which Napoleon had no place. The ill-will of events had 
long been announced. 

It was time that this vast man should fall. The excessive weight 
of this man in human destiny disturbed the equilibrium. This indi¬ 
vidual counted, of himself alone, more than the universe besides. 
These plethoras of all human vitality concentrated in a single head; 
the world mounting to the brain of one man, would be fatal to civili¬ 
zation if they should endure. The moment had come for incorrupti¬ 
ble, supreme equity, to look to it. Probably the principles and ele¬ 
ments upon which regular gravitations in the moral order as well as 
in the material depend, began to murmur. Reeking blood, over¬ 
crowded cemeteries, weeping mothers—these are formidable pleaders. 
When the earth is suffering from a surcharge, there are mysterious 
moanings from the deeps which the heavens hear. 

Napoleon had been impeached before the Infinite, and his fall was 
decreed. 







w 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


He vexed God. 

Waterloo is not a battle; it is the change of front of the universe. 

-— Victor Hugo . 



The Shadow 


Throne. 


cf/HIS planet moves through space enswathed with light. 



The 

^ radiance of the sun billows away to all quarters of infinity. 
<F^pj Behind the globe a shadow is projecting; diminishing in- 
deed, lost at last in the immeasurable vastness of the illumin¬ 
ations of the scene. The stars sing there; the suns are all glad. No 
doubt, if Richter was right in saying that the interstellar spaces are 
the homes of souls, there is unfathomable bliss in all these pulsating, 
unfathomable spaces, so far as they are regions of loyalty to God. 
There can be no blessedness without holiness, and so there cannot be 
bliss where loyalty does not exist. Behind every planet there will 
be that shadow; and as surely as there cannot be illumination on one 
side without shadow on the other, so surely a record of sin will cast 
a shadow forever, and some part of that shadow will sweep over the 
sea of glass, and not be invisible from the great white throne.— 
Joseph Cook. 


ON BEHALF OF THE YOUNG FOLKS . 

Don’t be afraid of a little fun at home, good people! Don’t shut 
up your house lest the sun should fade your carpets and your hearts; 
lest a hearty laugh should shake down some of the musty old cob¬ 
webs there. If you want to ruin your sons, let them think that all 
mirth and social enjoyment must be left on the threshold without 
when they come home at night. When once a home is regarded as 
only a place to eat, drink and sleep in, the work is begun that ends 
in gambling houses, and reckless degradation. Young people must 
have fun, and relaxation somewhere; if they do not find it at their 
own hearthstone, it will be sought at other and perhaps less profitable 

















AND THE WISE. 


44i» 


places. Therefore, let the fire burn brightly at night, and make the 
homestead delightful with all those little arts that parents so perfectly 
understand. Don’t repress the buoyant spirit of your children. Half 
an hour of merriment round the lamp and firelight of a home blots 
out the remembrance of many a care and annoyance during the day, 
and the best safeguard they can take with them into the world is the 
unseen influence of a bright little domestic sanctum .—New England 
Farmer. 

•——* 



^| ! |^p[IXTY cents a day is considered good wages for a working 
m|j1\ man in any of the European countries, except Great Britain, 
'^p where the wages are somewhat higher. In the Tyrol silk 
V "Y* region and in Italy they often do not get more than ten 
cents. In the country in Germany ten cents is the common pay. 
Women there often get but five cents. In Sweden men often work 
from 4 o’clock in the morning till 9 in the evening, and do not get more. 
During the late war many poor women in Berlin were hired to knit 
stockings for soldiers for five cents. The profits of the poor who keep 
petty .shops, sell trinkets in the street, or act as sutlers, do not average 
more than 3 or 4 per cent. Barbers in Berlin, since the raising of 
their prices, get five cents for hair-cutting and two and a half cents for 
shaving. Servants at hotels get from three to eight dollars a month. 
Servant girls in private families often get but ten dollars a year. 
Sometimes these classes cannot get work at any price. 



A WISE PARENT . 


Sophronius, a wise teacher, would not suffer his grown-up sons 
and daughters to associate with those whose conduct was not pure and 
upright. 

“ Dear father,” said the gentle Eulalia to him one day, when he 
forbade her, in company with her brother, to visit the Volatile Lucinda 

_“dear father, you must think us very childish, if you imagine we 

should be exposed to danger by it.” 




m 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


The father ‘took in silence a dead coal from the hearth, and 
reached it to his daughter. 

“ It will not hurt you, my child, take it.” 

Eulalia did so, and behold, her delicate white hand was soiled and 
blackened, and, as it chanced, her white dress also. 

“We cannot be too careful in handling coals,” said Eulalia in 
vexation. 

“ Yes, truly,” said her father; “ you see, my child, that coals, even 
if they do not burn, will blacken. It is even so with the company of 
the vicious.” 



Genius rushes like a whirlwind, talent marches like a cavalcade 
of heavy men and heavy horses, cleverness skims like a swallow in 
the summer evening, with a sharp, shrill note, and a sudden turning. 

The Chinese are evidently pagans. They celebrate all their holi¬ 
days by paying their debts, forgiving their enemies, and shaking hands 
all round. The civilized people who have gone to China have not 
yet induced them to relinquish these old and barbarous habits. 

Life is a campaign; and if we are defeated in the field, let us 
retreat to the camp. And if we be driven out of the camp, let us 
fight our way back to the city. If we are besieged therein, and the 
walls are broken down, let us retire to the citadel. As story after, 
story of the citadel is taken, let us go up till we can go no further. 
And when the spear finds us, let it find 11s upon the very roof. Let 
us get as near to heaven as possible. Let us not, for anybody’s sake, 
go down into the dungeon to abide.— H. W. Beecher. 


}i 













-s*—§-<• 





* 





































Ill 







roblem^, paradox, puzzle^, aqd pia$. 





F from the stern of a vessel which is sailing directly east, at the 
1 rate of 20 miles an hour, a cannon ball be fired directly west, and 
^ the ball moves with a velocity of 20 miles an hour, how far will 
the vessel and ball be apart at the end of an hour? 

Answer. Twenty miles. 


As the mouth of the Mississippi River is two and a half miles 
higher than its source, does the river run up hill? 

Answer. If by “ higher” we mean distance from the earth’s cen¬ 
ter, then the river certainly runs up hill. But taking into account the 
centrifugal force caused by the rotation of the earth, the course is 
downward. 


As it takes lig-ht S minutes to come from the sun to the earth, do 
we see the sun as soon as it has arisen, or 8 minutes later? We shall 
not attempt to answer this question. Let the discussion go on. 

Why does a long-handled screw-driver have more power than a 
short-handled one? 

Arrange the ten digits so that they will foot up one hundred. 

Here is the famous wheel question: Two wheels of exactly the 
same size, one fixed, and the other movable. How many revolutions 
on its own axis does the movable wheel make in rolling once around 

the fixed wheel? 

This question was started in the Scientific American in iS6h, and 

for months the discussion was kept very lively by correspondents; the 

advocates of the one revolution theory and the advocates of the two 
29 [4491 

















THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


4^0 

revolution theory being about equally divided, and each party some¬ 
times using the other’s diagrams in support of its own position. The 
paper itself maintained that one was correct. 

A storekeeper who had only a three-quart measure and a five-quart 
measure, received an order for four quarts of vinegar, which he 
promptly filled; but how did he do the measuring? 

If to my age there added be, one-half, one-third, and three times 
three, what is my age, pray tell it me? 

If a person at the equator, with the sun directly over his head, 
starts on Monday noon, and travels Westward with sufficient rapidity 
to keep the sun directly over his head, when does it get to be Tuesday 
with him? 

A single mourner was seen following the remains of some person 
to burial. A stranger had a curiosity to know what relation the 
mourner could be to the deceased, and on inquiry of him received the 
following answer: “Brother and sister have I none, but this man’s 
father was my father’s son.” Now what relation could the mourner 
be to the deceased? 

. 0 -^<(( i ))))>^-0 --§>-£- < — • 

THE STUPID CARPENTER. 

A carpenter had a board i ft. 6 in. broad, which he wished to saw 

into two equal pieces. He commenced sawing at 
A and sawed through i ft. 3 in. in a straight line. 
b He then turned the board round, and commenced 

at B; he again sawed through 1 ft. 3 in., in a straight line. He then 
found he had still 2 ft. to saw in order to divide the board into two 
equal pieces. Show how he sawed the board. 



VARIATION IN TEE CLOCK OP ST. PAUL*S t 

If it takes one clock half a minute to strike six, and another clock 
twenty-five seconds to strike six, what difference will there be in the 
time it takes these two clocks to strike twelve? 




AND JUHE WISE. 


451 

What would be the effect of an irresistible force striking an im¬ 
movable body? is a problem to which we can profitably wait some 
time for an answer. 





WHERE BOBS IT COMB PROM f 

We will suppose that the squares in the dia¬ 
grams gi\en are inch squares. When the pieces 
are arranged as in the first instance, there are 64 
square inches5 but when the same pieces are ar¬ 
ranged as in the second instance, there are 65. 
Where does this extra square inch come from? 



FERGUSON'S MECHANICAL 
PARADOX. 

An infidel was once reasoning with Ferguson, 
the distinguished and devout mechanician, in the 
course of which he avowed his disbelief in the 
Trinity, and made the general statement that he 
would never believe in anvthing he could 
not understand. Ferguson’s reply was, that 
he should call again on the following evening, when he would 
show him a mechanical contrivance whose movements he would 
be obliged to believe in, though he could not understand them. 
The infidel called as directed, and Ferguson showed him a little ma¬ 
chine consisting of five wheels—-a small cog-wheel, which meshed 
into a larger and thick wheel, which in turn meshed into three thin 

wheels of the same diameter as itself. The last mentioned three 

% 

wheels were all strung on the same shaft, close together, and the 
three combined were of the same thickness as the wheel which pro¬ 
pelled them. When set in motion by the turning of the little wheel 
—of the three thin wheels, one revolved in one direction, another in 
the opposite direction, and the third stood still. The infidel examined 





































































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL. 


it long and curiously, and finally frankly confessed that for once he 
was obliged to believe in a thing he could not understand. We are 
not aware that any explanation exists of this novel piece of mechan¬ 
ism, which, however, is authoritatively vouched for, and has always 
been known as “ Ferguson’s Mechanical Paradox.” 





This is a famous one, and old, as it was “ invented ” by Zeno, of 
Elia, the famous Greek philosopher, some centuries before Christ. 
Here it is: Achilles and the tortoise are to run a race. Achilles can 
run twice as fast as the tortoise, and yet if he were to give the 
animal the start, he could never catch up, and it can be so proven. 
Suppose, then, at the start, the tortoise were to be a thousand ^ards 
ahead; while Achilles is running this thousand the tortoise can run 
five hundred, and while Achilles is running this five hundred the tor¬ 
toise can run two hundred and fifty, and still be ahead, and so on for¬ 
ever. After this perfectly lucid demonstration our readers are all 
expected to believe that Achilles would never catch up. 

This man Zeno, the founder of the school of Stoics, had a ponder¬ 
ous humor in some of his reasoning. He once asked if a grain of 
corn, or the ten-thousandth part of a grain, let fall to the ground, 
would make any noise, and they told him, of course not. He then 
asked if a bushel let fall would make any noise, and they told him of 
course. He then retorted that, since a bushel was composed of a cer¬ 
tain definite number of grains, it followed that either the grain made a 
noise, or the bushel didn’t. 


■ ——Oc=@=»o •§>—■ 

ft 

THE FAMOUS SYLLOGTSMUS CROCODILES . 

This is another specimen of what can be proven, or rather left un¬ 
proven by logic. An infant, while playing on the bank of a river, 
was seized by a crocodile. The mother rushed to its assistance, 
and by her tearful entreaties obtained a promise from the croco- 


AND THE WISE. 


4£>3 


dile (which, or who, was evidently of more than average intelligence), 
that he would give it back to her, if she would tell him truly what 
would happen to it. On this the mother (rashly) asserted, “ You will 
n°t give it back” 

The crocodile answers to this: “ If you have spoken truly, I can¬ 
not give back the child without destroying the truth of your asser¬ 
tion; if you have spoken falsely, I cannot give back the child, because 
you have not fulfilled the agreement; therefore, I cannot give it back, 
whether you have spoken truly or falsely.” The mother retorted: 
“ If I have spoken truly, you must give back the child, by virtue of 
your agreement; if I have spoken falsely, that can only be when you 
have given back the child; so that whether I have spoken truly or 
falsely, you must give back the child.” History is silent as to the issue 
of this remarkable dispute; but we hope the mother got her baby. 



ARGUING WITH A LAWYER . 

OfF the same piece, is this other famous dialect problem: A 
young man, named Euathlus, went to study law with a famous 
pleader named Protagoras; it being agreed that a certain fee should 
be paid for instructions if the pupil were successful in the first cause 
he pleaded. Time passed on; the young man was admitted; put out 
his little sign, and was ready for business. But business didn’t come; 
so finally the old lawyer sued the young lawyer for his pay, and it 
came into court; and the master argued thus: “ If I be successful in 
this cause, O Euathlus, you will be compelled to pay, by virtue of 
the sentence of these righteous judges; and should I even be unsuc¬ 
cessful, you will then have to pay me in fulfillment of your original 
contract.” To this the apt pupil replied: “If I be successful, O 
master, I shall be free by the sentence of these righteous judges; and 
even if I be unsuccessful, I shall be free by virtue of the contract.” 
The story goes that this kind of reasoning staggered the righteous 
judges, who reserved their decision. 





m 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


THE UNITED HEARTS . 

Bend with pincers two pieces of iron wire, 
about the sixteenth of an inch in diameter, as 
shown in the diagrams, only about three or four 
times the size. The details of the ends of the 
wires are shown below, about the natural size. 

The bending of these ends must be carefully fol¬ 
lowed, except that the loop formed by A may be at 
right angles to the loop formed by B instead of be¬ 
ing fiat as drawn. This arrangement makes the 
solution rather less obvious. Galvanized iron wire 
is recommended, as it does not get rusty. The wire 
should not be of soft iron like bottle wire, or the hearts will not keep 
their shape. But it must be soft enough to yield readily to the pres¬ 
sure of a pair of pincers, such as are generally combined with wire- 
nippers. The puzzle is to link the hearts together; or, if given linked, 
to separate them. Puzzles as a rule require the exercise of very little 
force. It is well to caution solvers that no violence is necessary, as 
they are very apt to force the wire out of shape. 






This is a very similar puzzle to the last. Three pieces of wire are 
required, which are to be bent as shown in the diagrams. 




The puzzle is to link on the man’s necktie, or if given linked, to 
take it off. 















AND IHHB WISE. 


4SS 


We had always supposed that there was plenty of motion in the 
world until we read the following argument by Diodorus Chromos, 
who by it proved conclusively that such a thing as motion is impossi¬ 
ble. He argues thus: “Al\ that a body does must be done either in 
the place where it is or else in the place where it is not. Now, it 
cannot move in the place where it is, because the instant it moves it 
is no longer there; much less can it move in the place where it is not. 
Consequently it cannot move at all, and motion is impossible.” It is 
related that the inventor of this sophism on one occasion dislocated 
his shoulder, and sent for a doctor. The doctor assured him that the 
shoulder could not possibly be out at all, since it could not be put out 
in the place where it was, and much less in the place where it was not. 

Another instance of fallacious reasoning is the following, which 
has the virtue of being purely American: “All rules have their ex¬ 
ceptions.” This statement, being itselt a rule, must also have its 
exceptions. Hence the proverb at the same time alhims that all lules 
have their exceptions, and that some rules do not, which is a little 
confusing, if not actually contradictory. 




-o£=@=5o-■§>—£- 


Cut a heart out of thin wood or very stout card¬ 
board, and bore six holes in it, as shown in the dia¬ 
gram. 

Double a piece of string so as to torm a loop 
Pass the ends downward through A, upward 
through B, downward through C, upward through 
D, through the loop downward through E, and 


bead, which is too targe 10 gu . ~ . . . . , \ . Pllll 

The clotted lines show where the string goes behind the boaid. P 
the string from behind through A, till the end of the loop comes m a 

h.lf way D ...d A. Finally „uli U» tek 

untying o, cutting it. 






THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL. 


4^6 


THE DOUBLE HEADER . 

To make a double header, procure a smooth piece of wood one- 
eighth of an inch thick, and with a fretwork saw cut out five pieces 
shaped like A, and one piece shaped like B. 

t © 

a 

The dimensions, which are important, are as follows: Length of 
A, two inches and three-quarters; size of each head, three-quarters 
of an inch square; size of narrow portion of A (or rod connect¬ 
ing the heads) one-eighth of an inch, so that a section of the rod 
is a square. One of the cross slits in the circular piece (B) is to 
be three-quarters of an inch in length, full; the other, five-eighths of 
an inch in length, full. (By “full” is meant a trifle in excess of the 
given length, but only a trifle). The breadth of the slits is to be one- 
eighth of an inch, full. They are to be at right angles to each other. 
The edges of the double headers and of the slits are to be smoothly 
finished. Rubbing with fine sand paper will remove any little splint¬ 
ers or rough parts. The puzzle is to insert all the double headers into 
the slits. Having done this shake them about until they appear some¬ 
what as in the diagram, and then release them. 





1 


Take a rectangular piece of thin pa¬ 
per, such as foreign note, four inches by 
three, or in similar proportion. Mark off 
a square (3 in. by 3 in.) at C D, and fold 
the paper at A B, so as make the upper corners coincide with C D, 
as shown by the second diagram. The part above the dotted line in 




















AND THE WISE. 


m 

that diagram will now be two-fold. Next fold in half in the opposite 
direction, as shown by the third diagram. The part above the dotted 
line will now be four-fold, the part below will be two-fold. Two 
fiee coiners will now be found at E, the paper forming each being 
two-fold. Fold down one of these free corners, so as to make it coin¬ 
cide with F in front; and similarly fold down the other free corner, so 
as to make it coincide with F at the back. The paper will now appear 
as in the fourth diagram, the part above the dotted line being eight¬ 
fold, and the part below two-fold. Lastly, cut from X to Y. The paper 
is three inches by four, \ will behalf an inch from the longer upright 
side, and one inch from the shorter upright side. 

Unfold the cut pieces. It will be found that there 
are five pieces, one being a cross. The other four 
pieces, when put together, will form a second cross 
of the same size and shape as the first, as shown. 



They play at a game in France in which certain members of a 
company are entirely concealed, with the exception of their eyes. 
Everything is hidden except the eye itself,—and then it is the business 
of the rest of the company to identify the concealed persons simply 
by their eyes. One who had played at this game told me that the 
difficulty of such identification is incredibly great, and that he nimself 
was unable to find out his own wife when thus concealed. More than 
this, it happened that on one occasion, a lady celebrated for her 
beauty, and especially distinguished by her fine eyes (la Duchesse de 

M-), was drawn into engaging in this pastime, there being only 

one other person hidden besides herself, and this an old gentleman 
not celebrated for his eyes. The pair were duly concealed and ban¬ 
daged up, with nothing but their eyes visible, and the person—a lady 

_Who was to declare to whom the respective eyes belonged, was 

introduced. Without a moment’s hesitation, she walked up straight 
to where the old gentleman was placed, and exclaimed, “ Ah, there is 

no one but la Duchesse de M-who can boast such eyes as these!” 

She had made the choice, and it was the wrong one.— Macmillan's 

Magazine . 









THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


£68 


Let the person whose name you wish to know tell 
you in which of the upright columns the first letter of 
his name is found. If it be found in but one column, 
it is the top letter; if it occurs in more than one column, 
it is found by adding the alphabetical numbers of the 
top letters of these columns, and the sum will be the 
number of the letter sought. By taking one letter at a 
time in this way, the whole name can be ascertained. 

For example, take the word Jane. J is found in the 
two columns commencing with B and H; which are 
the second and eighth letters down the alphabet; their 
sum is ten, and the tenth letter down the alphabet is J, 
the letter sought. The next letter, A, appears in but 
one column, where it stands at the top. N is seen in 
headed B, D and H; these are the second, fourth and eighth letters 
of the alphabet, which added, give the fourteenth, or N, and so on. 
The use of this table will excite no little curiosity among those 
unacquainted with the foregoing explanation.— Agriculturist. 


A 

B 

D 

H 

Q 

C 

c 

E 

I 

R 

E 

F 

F 

J 

S 

G 

G 

G 

K 

S 

I 

J 

L 

E 

T 

K 

K 

M 

M 

U 

M 

N 

N 

N 

V 

O 

O 

O 

O 

w 

Q 

R 

T 

X 

X 

S 

S 

V 

z 

Y 

u 

V 

V 

Y 

Z 

w 

w 

W 



Y 

z 




the 

colum 

ns 



CORRESPONDENT of the Scientijic American gives the 
^ JfW following, which is vouched for by plenty of good authorities.* 
) “ I am glad to see the ‘buzzing up’ process again brought to 

notice. Fifty years ago the operation was to me a pastime, 
bewitching and unaccountable as now. It is not (?) animal 
magnetism; I know as much about that as anybody,—which is very 
little. I will explain the method of performing this most wonderful 
feat. A lies on his back on a floor, ground, or an open lounge. B 
and C (two are as good as four) place their forefingers under the 
shoulders and hips of A. They breathe in concert by finger signal 
from A. At the first inhalation B and C lift, but they don’t lift; the 
least effort or grunt breaks the spell, and you begin anew. Thus A 
is breathed up, the breath lasting, if you are adroit, till you raise him 




AND THE WISE. 


4^9 


as high as you can reach, when you must catch him, to prevent a 
fall. The head should be the highest, and then he will dome down 
on his feet. He will feel that the gravitation is out of him; B and C 
lift only the clothing. He feels—have you ever dreamed of flying? 
That is it exactly. No need of a close or still room. It can be done 
out of doors, in a gale as well as in a closet. When you get the 
knack of it,—and it has once cost me three hours to teach a class,— 
any two of twelve or fifteen years can toss up a Daniel Lambert like 
a feather. I do not know that any science can come out of it, but as 
an amusement, it is the richest thing I ever knew.” 

TO FIND A PERSON'S AGE AND THE MONTH 
IN WHICH HE WAS BORN 

Ask him to take the number of the month in which he was born 
—-January being counted as No. i—and to multiply this by 2. To 
the product he must add 5, and then multiply the amount by 50. To 
this product he adds his present age, and from the amount subtracts 
the number of days in the year, 365. You then ask him for the last 
result, to which you add 115. Pointing off two figures on the right 
for the number of years, you have on the left the number of the 
month in which he was born. Of course the person whose age you 
are to find out tells you none of his figures until he has subtracted 
the 365. 



A RIDDLE . 


’Tvvas whispered in heaven, ’twas muttered in hell, 
And echo caught faintly the sound as it fell; 

On the confines of earth ’twas permitted to rest, 

And the depths of the ocean its presence confessed; 
’Twill be found in the sphere when ’tis riven asunder, 
Be seen in the lightning, and heard in the thunder. 
’Twas allotted to man with his earliest breath, 
Attends him at birth and awaits him in death, 
Presides o’er his happiness, honor, and health, 








460 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL. 


Is the prop of his nouse, and the end of his wealth. 

In the heaps of the miser ’tis hoarded with care, 

But is sure to be lost on his prodigal heir. 

It begins every hope, every wish it must bound, 

With the husbandman toils, and with monarchs is crowned. 
Without it the soldier, the seaman may roam, 

But woe to the wreteh who expels it from home! 

In the whispers of conscience its voice will be found, 

Nor e’en in the whirlwind of passion be drowned. 

’Twill not soften the heart; but though deaf be the ear, 

It will make it acutely and instantly hear. 

Yet in shade let it rest, like a delicate flower, 

Ah, breathe on it softly—it dies in an hour. 

— Catharine Fanshawe. 


According to the ancient legend, that fabulous monster, the Sphinx 
of Egypt (it must have been ages and ages ago) used to visit differ¬ 
ent cities, propounding certain riddles, which, if the people failed to 
guess, they were at once destroyed, with their city. Finally this 
nondescript came to Egypt with the conundrum: What animal is it 
that walks on four legs in the morning, on two at noon, and three at 
night? But this time the Sphinx had come to the wrong place, for 
the Egyptians used to be regular Yankees at guessing, and so their 
answer was Alan , who in his infancy, or morning of life, creeps upon 
his hands and feet; in his meridian or noon of life, stands erect, and in 
his old age, or evening of life, leans upon his staff for support. The 
riddle having been answered, the Sphinx disgusted, immured itself in 
he sand, and turned to stone. 

This gigantic idol is probably the largest image ever worshiped. 
The body measures 140 feet long, and the fore-paws extended in front 
about 50 feet additional. The head is 102 feet around, and the body, 
just back of the neck, 40 feet through. The huge creature was cut 
from one solid chunk of stone, in situ , that is, native rock on the spot, 
so it is a part and parcel of the immovable globe. Could those thick 
lips speak, what secrets they would reveal. 






































































































































































































AND THE WISE. 


W 


’TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER. 





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love-ly com-pan-ions Are fad - ed and gone; No flow-erof her kindred, No 

love-ly are sleep-ing, Go sleep thou with them ; Thus kind-ly I scat-ter Thy 

cir - cle The gems drop a - way! When true hearts lie withered, And 


love’s shin-ing 



ad lib. 


au uv. j— A tempo. 


rose-budis nigh, Tire-fleet back her blush es, Or give sigh for sigh 1 
leaveso’er the bed,Where thy mates of the garden Lie scent-less and dead 
fond ones are flown, Oh! who would in-hab-it This bleak woi Ida-lone . 


































































































































































































































































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




ANNIE LAWRIE. 




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ne'er for-get will I, But for bon-nie An-nie Law-rie, I’d lay me down and die. 

dark blue is her e’e, And for bon-nie An-nie Law-rie, I’d lay me down and die. 

she sa the world to me, And for bon-nie An - me Law-rie, I’d lay me down and die. 




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AND THE WISE. 




HOME, SWEET HOME. 


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1. ’Mid pleas-ures and pal - a - ces, Tho’ we may roam, Be it ev - er 

2 . An ex - ile from home, splen-der daz - zles in vain; Oh, give me my 

3- 1° us | n despite of the ab - sence of years, How sweet the re- 

4 . Your ex - ile is blest with all fate can bestow, Bnt mine has been 

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hum-ble,There’s noplace like home! A charm from the skies seems to hal - low us 
low-ly thatched cot-tage a-gain; The birds sing-ing gai- ly, That came at my 
membranceof home still appears,From allurements a broad,which but flat-terthe 
check-er’d with ma -ny a woe! Yet, tho’ different our fortuues,ourthot’s are the 
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there, Which seek thro’ the world is not met with else-where. Home ! home! 
call; Give me them with that peace of mind,dear-er than all. Home! home! 
eye, The unsatisfi’d heart turns, and says with a sigh. Home! home! 
same, And both, as we think of Col - urn - bia, ex-claim. Home! home! 

N 


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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


HOME, SWEET HOME—Concluded. 

_ _ Ad lib. 

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place like home, There’s no place like home, There’s no place like home, 

sweet, sweet home ; There’s no place like home, 1 here’s no place like home, 

sweet,sweet home! There’s no place like home! T here’s no place like home, 

sweet,sweet home ! There's no place like home! 1 here’s no place like home. 

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SHELLS OF OCEAN. 


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1. Onesum-mer eve, with pen-sive thought, I wander’d on the sea beat 

2 . I stoop’d up-on the peb-bly strand,To cull the toys that round me 



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shore, Where oft in heed-less infant sport, I gather’d shells in days before, I gather’d 
lay, But as I took them in my hand,I threw them one by one away,I threw them 

fel 


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AND THE WISE. 


SHELLS OF OCEAN—Concluded. 


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shells in days before,The plashing waves like mu-sic fell,Responsive to my fan-cv 
one by one a-way; Oh ! thus I said, in ev-’ry stage,By toys of fan - cy is be- 
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wild, A dream came o'er me like a spell, I thought I was a-gain a 
guiled,We gather shells from youth to age. And then we leave them, like a 
„ loco. 




espress. 



Ad lib. 


STS /T\ 


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child, A dream came o’er me like a spell,I thought I was a gain, a-gain a child, 
child, We gather shells from youth to age,And then we leave them, leavethemlikea child 


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JFHE BEAUTIFUL THE WONDEI^FUIi, 

KATHLEEN MAVOURNEEN. 




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hun-ter. is neard on the hill; The lark 

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from her light wing the 
is the spell that once 

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AND THE WISE 


4 * 69 * 


KATHLEEN MAVOURNEEN—Concluded. 
f . s m f f z 


v * ■#■ -#--#• • * -#- 

got-ten how soon we must sever, Oh! hast thou for-got-ten this 

vour-neen, my sad tears are fall-ing, To think that from E - rin and 


id - id: 

f ■ } ^ | ^ ■!■ | | j , -j- 





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day we must part, It may be for years, and it may be for-ev-er, Then 

thee I must part, It may be for years, etc. 



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why art t^ou si - lent thou voice of my heart, It may be for 




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41 G> 


THE BEAUTIFUL* THE WONDERFUL, 



COMIN' THRO’ THE RYE. 

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1. Gin a bo-dy meet a bo-dy, cornin’ thro’ the rye, Gin a bo-dy 

2 . Gin a bo-dy meet a bo-dy, cornin’frae the town. Gin a bo-dy 

3 . Amang the train thereis a swain,I dearly love mysel,But what’s his name or 



k. 

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kiss a bo-dy, need a bo - dy cry? Il-kalas-sie has her lad-die, 

meet a bo-dy, need a bo - dy frown? II - ka las - sie, etc. 

where’s his hame I din-na choose to tell. II - ka las - sie, etc. 














































































































































































































































































AND IPHB WISE. 


m 


LONG, LONG AGO. 



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1. Tell me the tales that to me were so dear, Long, long ago, long, long a-go; Sing me the songs I de- 

2. Do you remember the path where we met,Long,long ago, long, long ago; Ah, yes you told meyou 

3. Tho’ by your kindness .my fond hope was rais’d, Long,long ago, long, long ago; You by more eloquent 








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light-ed to hear, Long long a-go, long a - go, 
ne’erwouldforget,Longlonga-go, long a - go, 
lips have been prais 'd,Long longago,long a - go. 





Nowyou are come all my griefs are remov’d. 
Then to all oth-ers my smile you perfer’d. 
But by long absence your truth has been tried 







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Let me forget that so Iongyouhave rov’d,Let me believe that you love as you lov’d,Long long ago long ago. 
Love when you spoke gave a charm to each word,Still my heart treasures the praises I heard,Long, etc. 
Still to your accents I listen with pride,Blest as I was when I sat by your side,Long, etc. 



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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


THE DEAREST SPOT OF EARTH IS HOME. 

Moderato. W. T. Wrighton. 


4 — f fa: ~ X 

- ^-y-Fr —r-—-*— |~# - • - 9 — - i f 4 -J—d - — # -fi- p-j- —— ; 


1. The dear - est spot of earth to me, Is Home,. . sweet Home! The fai - ry land I 

2. I’vetaught my heart the way to prize My Home,. . sweet Home! I’ve learned to look with 


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long to see, Is Home,sweet Home! Home,sweetHome!There,how charm’d the sense ofhearmg! 
lover’s eyes,On Home.sweet Home! Home,sweet Home!There, where vows are truly plighted! 


Q , _ t _ H ^___ 

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There,whereloveis so en-dear-ing! All the world is not so cheer-ing, As Home, sweet Home! 
There,where hearts are so u-nit-ed!Ail the world besides I’ve sighted For Home, sweet Home! 


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AND BHE WISE 



THOSE EVENING BELLS. 


Thomas Moorb. 




tells. Of youth and home and that sweet time, When last I heard their sooth - ing 
gay, With - in the tomb now dark-ly dwells, And hears no more those Ev - 'ning 
on; While oth - er bards shall walk these dells And sing your praise sweet Ev - ’ning 






chime! Of youth and home and that sweet time When last I heard their sooth - ing chime! 
bells. With-in the tomb now dark-ly dwells, And hears no more those Ev - ’ning bells, 
bells. While oth-er bards shall walk these dells And sing your praise sweet Ev - 'ning bells. 



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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


MIGNON’S SONG. (Hast thou e’er seen the land.) 

Eng. words by John Oxenford. Music by Ambroise Thomas. 



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Hast thou e'er seen the land, where the wild cit-ron grows Where the rose blushes most. 


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where the orange is golden, Wherethebird light - ly flies, where thebreezesoft ly blows. 


























































































































































































































































































MD !FHE WISE 


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MIGNON’S SONG—Continued. 








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Heav’n we on ev - 'ry side view, Where ev - er reigns the spring Where the sky is so 





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JHHE BEAUTIFUL, TCHE WONDERFUL*, 


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MIGNON’S SONG—Continued. 




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AND THE WISE 


MIGNON’S SONG—Continued. 

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but 1 still think, with dreading Of mar - bleforms and stood and strange things sem’dto tell. 




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In the court is a tree. . its boughs wide-ly spreading, There oft we loved to 

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• THE BEAUTIFULi, THE WONDERFUL, 

MIGNON’S SONG—Concluded. 



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land for which I ev - er sigh! T’is there, *tisthere, with thee I would wan-der, There 



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AND THE WISE 


OH, SING THAT GENTLE STRAIN AGAIN. 

Andrew M' Marin. John C. Baker. 



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dul-cet lute a-gain,And breathe its magic spell; Its tones will soon my soul en- 

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4§£>* THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 

OH, SING THAT GENTLE STRAIN—Continued 


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pain,My aching heart be-guile; Fair rea-son wan-d’ring from her track in trou-ble’s dark-est 

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chain,As in somefai-ry dell: Like some poorwan-d’ring, flut’ringdoye,Beneath theser-pent’s 





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AND THE WISE. 


OH, SING THAT GENTLE STRAIN—Concluded. 




31 





























































































































































































































































































































































































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


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THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 


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1. How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond re-col-lec-tion presents them to new,The 

2. The moss-cov-er’d buck-et I hail as a treasure, For oft eu at n aon when relum'd from the field I 

3. How soon from the green mossy rim to re ceire it. As po s’d on th a curb it re-cliu’J ta my lips, Not a 




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or-chard,the mead-ow, the deep tangled wild wood,And er - ’ry lord spot which my n - fan-cy kn>w. 
found it a source of an ex qui site pleas ure. The pur-est and sweet est that na-ture can yield, 
full flow-ing gob - letcould tempt me toieare it, Tho’ Ail’d with the nec-ta: that Ju - pi - ter sips. 




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The wide - spread-ing 
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AND IFHE WISE 




THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET—Concluded. 


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mill that stood near it, The bridge and the rock where the cat - a - ract fell; The 

hands tiiat were glow-ing, And quick to the white - pebbled bot-tom it fell; Then 
lored sit - u - a - tion, The tear of re - gret will in - stru-sne-ly swell; As 





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cot of my fa-ther,the dai - ry house by it, And e’en the rude buck-et that hung in the well, 
soon w.ththo em -blem of health o - Ter-flow-ing, And drip-ping with cool-ness it rosefrcm the well, 
fan - cy re - rerts to my fa ther s, plan ta-tion, A..d sghs for the buck-et that hung in the will. 

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4$4 


THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


KILLARNEY. 


!-JeE=SE!EL'S 


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1. By Kil-lar - ney’s lakes and fells, Em-’rald isles and wind-ing bays, 

2. In - nis-fal - len’s ru-ined shrine. May sug-gest a pass-ing sigh, 

3. No place else can charm the eye, With such bright and va-ried tints, 

4. Mu - sic there for ech - o dwells, Makes each sound a har - mo - ny, 


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Moun-tain paths and wood-land dells, Mem-’ry ev - er fond - ly strays. 
But man’s faith can ne’er de-clme, Such God’swon - ders float - ing by. 
Ev - ’ry rock that you pass by, Ver-dure broi - ders of besprints, 
Ma - ny voiced the cho - rus swells, ’Till it faints . in ex - ta - cy. 

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Boun - teousna-ture loves all lands, 
Cas - tie Lough and Gle-na Bay, 
Vir - gin there the green grass grows, 
With the charm-ful tints be - low, 


Beau - ty wan-ders 
Moun - tains Tore and 
Ev - ’ry morn springs 
Seems the heav’n a- 


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AND THE WISE. 





KILLARNEY—Concluded. 

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ev-’ry-where,Footprints leaves on ma - ny 
Ea-gle’s nest. Still at Mu - cross you must 
na - tal clay, Bright hued ber-ries daff the 
hove to vie, All rich col - ors that we 

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strands, But her home is 
pray, Though the monks are 
snows, Smil - ing win - ter’s 
know, Tinge the cloud wreaths 

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sure - ly there I 
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An-gels fold their wings and rest, In that E - den 
An-gels won-der not that man There would fain pro- 
An-gels oft - en paus-ing there, Doubt if E - den 
Wings of An-gels so might shine, Glanc - ing back soft 






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of the west, Beau-ty’s home Kil - lar - ney, 

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Beau-ty‘s home Kil - lar - ney, 

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long life’s span, Beau -ty’s home Kil - lar 
were more fair, Beau-ty’s home Kil - lar 


light di-vine, 


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Ev - er fair Kil -lar-ney. 
Ev - er fair Kil - lar-ney. 
Ev - er fair Kil - lar-ney. 
Ev - er fair Kil - lar-ney. 

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JFHE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




SOME DAY. 


Words by Hugh Conway. 
Moderato. 

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Milton Wellings. 




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know not when the day shall be, I know not where our eyesmay meet, What 


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AND THE WISE 




SOME DAY—Continued. 

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i_ years have passed. Till eyes are dim and tresses gray • The 

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world is wide but, love at last, 


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day, Some day,some day, some day I shall meet you,Love,I know not when or how, 

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Love, I know not when orhow,On-ly this, on-ly this, this, that once you loved me, 

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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


488 


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ad lib. 


SOME DAY—Continued. 


AAA 


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Only this I love you now,I lore you now,I loveyou now, 


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knownotare you far or near, Or areyoudeador do you live; I 


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know now who the blame should bear,Or who should plead or who for-give,But when we 

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AND IFHE WISE 




SOME DAY—Concluded. 


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ev - *ry cloud shall roll a - way, 


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That darkens love twixt you and 

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Appassionato. 


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me, Someday, some day,some day I shall meet you,Love,I know not when or how, 

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JFHE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


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THERE’S NAE ROOM FOR TWA. 


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I and Kit-ty walked a - braid, An’ Ja-mie walked a-tween. 


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AND iflHE WISE. 


494 


THERE’S NAE ROOM FOR TWA—Continued. 


Pin Lento. 


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“jenny/ said Jem,“maun walk behin’,There’s nae room for twa. There’s nae room for 


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tv/a,” said he,“There’s nae room for twa” Oh, Jamie’s words went to my heart,“There’s 



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CTHE BEAUHIPUL, WHE WONDE^PUL, 


THERE’S NAE ROOM FOR TWA—Continued. 

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A weel a day my heart leaped high, When walkin by his side; Sie 


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thoughts, a-las! are i - die now, For Kit - ty is his bride, He 



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bro - ken hope an’ a bro - ken heart,But it is nae now or lang ; My 



































































































































































































































































AND THE WISE. 




THERE’S NAE ROOM FOR TWA—Concluded. 

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thread o’life is a’but span, An’I maun gang a-wa’, An’mould-er in the 


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clay cauld,ground Where’s nae room for twa,There’s nae room for twa ye ken,There’s 

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nae room for twa, The narrow bed where all maun lie,Has nae room for twa. 


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Dear Kit - ty ! on thy bon - nie brow The sim-mer sun shall shine; While 


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nae room for twa; The heart that’s gie’n to God and heav n, Has nae room for twa. 

























































































































































































































THE BEAUTIFUL. THE WONDERFUL, 




ROBIN ADAIR. 

Arr. by P. K. Moran. 



1. What’s this dull Town to me ? Ro-bin’snot near; What was’t I wish’d to see, 

2. What made th'As-sem-bly shine? Ro bin A-dair; What made the Ball so fine ? 

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Where’s all the joy and mirth,Made this Town a 
What, when the Play was o’er,Wliat made my 
Yet him I lov’d so well Still in my 


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Heav’n on earth,Oh ! they’re all fled with thee 
heart so sore, Oh ! it was part - ing with 
heart shall dwell, Oh ! I can ne’er for-get 


Ro -bin 
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AND THE WISE 


4 &S 


AULD ROBIN GRAY. 


Recitative. 


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When the sheep are in the fauld,And s’the kye at 


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mHE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


AULD ROBIN GRAY—Continued. 



«—w—\ 

1. Young Jamie lo’ed me weel,and sought me for his bride; But sav-ing a crown, he had 

2. My fa-ther could na work,my mith-er couldnaspin; I toiled day and night,but their 

3. My fatherargued sair; my mither didna speak,But she looked in my face till my 

4. O, sair, sair did we greet,and mickle did we say, Ae kiss we took—na mair—I 



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naethingelse be-side,Tomakethecrown apound.my Ja-miegaed to sea, And the 
bread I could na win ; Auld Rob maintained them bailh, and wi’ tears in his e’e, Said, 
heart was like to break, They gied him my handjbutmy heart was in the sea; And so 
bade him gang a-wa’, I wish that I were dead; but I'm na like to dee, And 


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crown and the pound,they werebaith for me, 
“Jennie, for their sakes will you mar - ry me?” 
auld Robin Gray he was gude-man to me, 
why do I live to say, “Wae is me?” 


Hehadnabeen a-wa’ a 
My heart it said nae, and I 
I hadna been his wife a 
I gang like a ghaist, and I 



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AND THE WISE. 







AULD ROBIN GRAY—Concluded. 

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week,but only twa,When my mither she fell sick,and the cow was stow’n a-wa’; My 
lookedfor Ja-mieback; Hut hard blew the wmds,and his ship was awrack;His 
week but on-ly four,When,mournfuV as I sat on the stare at the door, I 
ca - rena to spin,I darena think of Ja mie, for that would be a sin; But 



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fa-ther brak’ his arm, my Ja-mie at the sea, And aula Ro bin Gray came a 
ship it was a wrack! why didna Jennie die ?And wherefore was I spared to cry, 
saw my Jamie’sghaist, I couldna think it he.Till hesaid,‘T’m come harne,my love, 
I will do my best a gudewife aye to be, For auld Ro-bin Gray he is 


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court - ing me. 
“Wae is me!” 


to mar-rythee!” 















































































































































































































































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




NANCY LEE. 


Frederick E. Weatherly, M. A. Stephen Adams. 








ho!... 


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See there shestands an’ waves her hands, up_ 
But true an’ bright,from morn till night,my 
A long, long life to my sweet wife, an’ 






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AND TCHE WISE 


4^9* 


NANCY LEE—Continued. 













































































































































































































































































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


§£>£>• 


NANCY LEE—Concluded. 



wife the sail - or’s star... shall be, Yeo 


ho!,... we go a- 


































































































































































































































































































































AND THE WISE. 




TWICKENHAM FERRY. 


Theo. Marzials. 





1. O-hoi - ye-ho,Ho-ye-ho,who’s for the fer-ry? The bri - ar's in bud, the 

2. O - hoi - ye ho,Ho-ye-ho, “I’m for the fer-ry? The bri - ar’s in bud, the 

3. O - hoi-ye-ho,Ho ! you’re too late for the fer-ry? The bri - ar’s in bud, the 

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sun go-ing down,And I’ll row ye so quick and I’ll row ye so stead - y, And 
sun go-ing down, And it’s late as it is, and I haven’t a pen - ny, And 
sun go-ing down, And he’s not rowing quick,and he’s not rowingstead-y,You’d 





’tis but a pen - ny to Twick-en - ham Town. The fer-ry-man’s slim and the 
how shall I get me to Twick-en - ham Town? She’d a rosein her bonnet, and 
think’twas ajour-ney to Twick-en - ham Town. “O hoi, and O ho,” you may 











































































































































































































THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 

TWICKENHAM FERRY—Continued 





fer-ry-man’s young,And he's just a soft twang, inthe turn of his tongue, And he’s 
Oh! she look’d sweet, As the lit - tie pink flower that grows in the wheat; With her 
call as you will; The moon is a - ris - ing on Pe-ters-ham Hill,And with 



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fresh as a pip-pin and brown as a ber-ry, And ’tis but a pen - ny to 
cheeks like a rose and her lips like a cher-ry, And sure and you’re welcome to 
Love like a rose in the stern of the wher-ry,There’s dan-ger in cross-ing to 


























































































































































































































AND THE WISE 




TWICKENHAM FERRY—Concluded. 
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O - hoi - ye-ho, Ho - ye-ho, Ho -ye-ho, Ho! 

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AMERICA. 



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S, F. Smith, 1833. 


•1 —^ _ - - —• • 1 ■ - ■ —« 

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1. My coun - try ’tis of thee, Sweet land of lib - er-ty, 

2. My na - tive coun - try,thee, Land of the no - ble free, 

3. Let mu - sic swell the breeze, And ring from all the trees, 

4. Our Fa - thers’ God, to thee, Au - thor of li - her- ty. 


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Of thee I sing: 
Thy name I love: 
Sweet free-dom’s song; 
To thee we sing; 


Land where my fa - thers died, Land of the 
I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and 
Let mor - tal tongues a-wake, Let all that 
Long may our land be bright,With free-dom’s 



pil-grims’ pride,From ev - Ty moun - tain side Let free-dom ring! 

tern - pled hills ; My heart with rap - ture thrills,Like that a - bove. 

breathe par-take, Let rocks their si - lence break, The sound pro - long, 

ho - ly light, Pro - tect us with thy might, Great God, our King! 


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JPHE BEfiUWIPUD, CHE WOHDEI^PUD, 


SWING LOW, SWEET CHARIOT. 


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Swing low, sweet char-i - ot, coming for to carry me home,Swing low,sweetchar i-ot, 




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2. If you get there be- 

3. The bright - est day that ev- 

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band of an - gels com-ing af-ter me, Com-ingforto car-ry me home, 

all my friends I’m com - ing too, Com-ingforto carry me home. 

Je - sus wash’d my sins a - way, Com-ingforto car-ry me home, 

stiil my soul feels heav’n - ly bound, Com-ing for to car-ry me home. 


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AND THE WISE. 




TURN BACK PHARAOH’S ARMY. 



SOLO. Moderato. 

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1. Gwineto write to Mas - sa Je - sus, To send some valiant sol-dier, 

2. If you want your souls con-vert-ed, You’d bet - ter be a pray-ing, 

3. You say. you are a sol-dier, Fight-ing for your Sav-ior, 

4 . When the chil-dren were in bond age, They cried un - to the Lord, 

5 . When Mo • ses smote the wa - ter, The chil-dren all passed o-ver, 

6. When Pharaoh cross’d the wa-ter, The wa-ters came to - geth-er, 


CHORUS. Faster. 

-N——z-fS-N 





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To turn back Pharaoh’s ar - my, Hal - le - lu! 

To turn back Pharaoh’s ar-my, Hal - le - lu! 

To turn back Pharaoh’s ar - my, Hal - le - lu! 

He turn’d back Pharaoh’s ar - my, Hal - le - lu! 

And turn’d back Pharaoh’s ar - my, Hal-le - lu! Andturn’dback, etc. 
And drown’d ole Pharaoh’s ar - my, Hal - le - lu ! And drown’d ole, etc. 


To turn back Pharaoh’s 
To turn back, etc. 

To turn back, etc. 

He turn’d back, etc. 


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JUHE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




KEEP ME FROM SINKING DOWN, 



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O, Lord, O, my Lord! 0 , my good Lord! Keep me from sinking down. 

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I tell you what I mean to do; Keep me 
I looked up yonder, and what do I see; Keep me 
When I was a mourner just like you; Keep me 
X bless the Lord I'm gwine to di 


from sink-ing down: 
from sink-ing down: 
from sink-ing down: 
Keep me from sink-ing down: 




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I mourned and mo irnedtill I got thro’, Keep me 
I’m gwine to judg-ment by - and-by; Keep me 


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from sink-ing down, 
from sink-ing down, 
from sink-ing down, 
from sink-ing down. 


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AND THE WISE 









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/THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 

THE GOSPEL TRAIN. 




Unison. 



1. The gos-pel train is com-mg, 

2. I hear the bell and whis - tie, 

3. No sig - nal from an - oth * er train, 





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I hear the car-wheels mov-ing, And rum-bling thro’ the land. 

She’s play - ing all hersteain andpow’r, And strain ing ev - ’ry nerve. 

Oh, sin - ner, you’re for - e’er lost, If onceyou’re left be - hind. 



Get on 


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board, chi 1 - dren, Get on 


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board, chil-dren, For there’s room for ma - ny 


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more. 



4. This is the Christian banner, 

The motto’s new and old, 
Salvation and Repentance, 

Are burnished there in gold. 

Cho —Get on board, children, etc. 

5. She’s nearing now the station, 

Oh, sinner, don’t be vain, 

But come and get your ticket, 

And be ready for the train. 

Cho .—Get on board, children, etc. 

6. The fare is cheap, and all can go, 

The rich and poor are there; 

No second class on board the train, 
No difference in the fare. 

Cho .—Get on board, children, etc. 


7 -There’s Moses, Noah and Abraham, 
And all the prophets, too ; 

Our friends in Christ are all on board, 
Oh, what a heavenly crew ! 

Cho .—Get on board, children, etc. 

8. We soon shall reach the station, 

Oh, how we then shall sing, 

With all the heavenly army, 

We’ll make the welkin ring. 

Cho .—Get on board, children, etc. 

9. We’ll shout o’er all our sorrows, 

And sing forever more, 

With Christ and all h is army, 

On that celestial shore. 

Cho .—Get on board, children, etc. 









































































































































































































AND THE WISE. 




WE SHALL WALK THRO’ THE VALLEY. 







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1. We shall walk thro’ the val-ley and the shad-ow of death, We shall 

2. There will be no sor-rowthere, will be no sor - row there, There will 

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walk thro’ the val-ley in peace; If Je - sus Him-self shall be our 
be no sor - row there, If Je - sus Him-self, etc. 


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FINE. CHORUS. 



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rpHE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 




my LORD’S WRITING ALL THE TIME 

a Solo. Refrain. 

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I. Come down,come down,My Lord,Come clown,My Lord s wiit-ing all the 
2 When I was down in Egypt’s land, My Lord’s wnt-ing all the 

3. O Christians, you had bet-ter pray, My Lord’s wnt-ing all the 

4. King Jesus rides in the middle of the air, My Loid s writ-ing all the 


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time, And take me up to wear the crown, My Lord’s writing all the time, 
time’ I heardsometalk of promised land, My Lord’s writing all the time, 
time, For Sa-tan’s round you ev - ’ry day, My Lord’s writing all the time, 
time, He’s call-ing sinners from ev-’ry-where, My Lord's writing all the time. 


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Oh, he sees all you do, He hears all you say, My Lord's writing all the time. 

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AND THE WISE. 


§11 


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REIGN, MASTER JESUS. 



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reign sal - va - tion in my poor soul, Reign, Mas-ter Je-sus, reign! 


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Reign,Master Je sus, reign. 

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To the prom-ised land I’m 
Pray’d a little by day, and 
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a-way, v Reign,Mas-ter Te-sus, reign. 
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THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL, 


W 


REIGN, MASTER JESUS—Concluded. 

CHORUS. 




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reign! O reign sal - va - don in my poor soul,Reign,Master Je-sus, reign. 




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GOOD-BYE, BROTHERS. 


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I. Good-bye, broth-ers, gcod-bye, sis-ters, If 

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2. We’ll partinthebody,we 

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meet you in heav-en, in tlie blessed kingdom, If I don’t see you a - ny more, 
now God bless you, God bless you, If I don’tsee you a - ny more. 

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